MEMORIES  OF  AN  OLD  ACTOR. 


[UHI7ERSIT7] 


\^ 


MEMORIES 


OF 


AN  OLD  ACTOR 


BY 


WALTER  M.  LEMAN 


They  are  the  abstract  and  brief  chronicles  of  the  time" 

SHAKESPEARE 


A.  ROMAN   CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
1886 


S" 


Copyright,  1886, 
By    WALTER    M.     LEMAN, 


H.  3.  CROCKER   <t    CO. 

JTATIONERS   AND    PRINTERS 

SAN    FRANCISCO 


DEDICATION. 


3Eo  t§c  ffier^ort?  of 

NATHAN     DORTER, 

Whose  human  sympathies  embraced  not  kindred 
and  friends  alone,  but  went  out  to  and  beyond  the 
circle  of  the  legal  profession  which  he  dignified 
by  his  virtues  and  adorned  by  his  talents,  and  to 
that  great  brotherhood  which  found  in  him  the 
truest  exemplar  of  their  motto:  "Friendship,  Love 
and  Truth"  and  took  in  mankind  at  large ;  who 
dared  oppose  Wrong  though  it  were  clad  in  silk 
and  purple,  and  befriend  Right  *  though  groveling 
in  wretchedness  and  rags ;  upon  whose  escutcheon 
as  husband,  brother,  father,  friend  and  man  there 
is  neither  spot  nor  blemish — this  volume  is  dedi- 
cated by  the  writer  who  knew  him  long  and  loved 
him  well. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

School  Remembrances  — Juvenile  Theatricals  —  Competition 
Status  of  the  Theatre  in  the  United  States  sixty  years 
ago — Number  of  Theatres — Managerial  Control — By  whom 
held  in  the  Eastern  States— In  the  Middle  States— In  the 
West  —  The  Starring  System  —  Theatrical  Advertising— 
Kean — Cooper  —  Booth — The  Elder  Wallack  —  Forrest — 
Miss  Lydia  Kelly  —  Mrs.  J.  Barnes  —  Mrs.  Drake  —  Mrs. 
Sloman — Miss  Clara  Fisher — The  Federal  Street  Theatre 
— Mrs.  Powell — Mrs.  Papanti — The  Kean  riot — Joe  Cowell 
— Watkins  Burroughs — Flynn i 

CHAPTER    II. 

Dry  Goods  and  the  Drama — Opening  of  the  Treinont  Theatre — 
Prize  Address— William  Rufus  Blake— Mr.  Webb— Dan 
Reed— John  Mills  Brown — Signer  Ostinelli— Elise  Bis- 
caccianti — James  Kendall — Miss  Lydia  Kelly — Mr. 
Frithey — Hyatt — The  Forfeit  Book — Mr.  Doyne — My 
First  Part 17 


Contents. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Augustus  A.  Addams  —  Wallack  —  Pizarro — The  Precocious 
Infant — Cooper — Mons.  Barbierre — Madam  Hutin — Mile. 
Celeste^— My  Second  Part — Mr.  Ostinelli — Isherwood — 
Mr.  Hardy — Fun  in  the  Paint-room — Mr.  Francis  W.  Dana 
— Junius  Brutus  Booth 37 


CHAPTER    IV. 

Mr.  Collingbourne — Mr.  Hallam — Mr.  Blaike's  Stolen  Thun- 
der—John R.  Scott— Mrs.  Mary  Duff  and  Booth  in  the 
"Apostate" — The  Bohemian  Mother — Mr.  J.  S.  Jones — 
The  Grand  Combat — Mr.  Archer — Mr.  Joseph  Co  well — 
The  Salem  Theatre  —  Captain  Thunderbolt  —  Captain 
Ivightfoot — Cora's  Child — Mr.  Horn  and  Mrs.  Austin — 
Mr.  John  Gilbert — Clara  Fisher — Mr.  and  Mrs.  George 
Barrett — Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  H.  Smith — Edwin  Forrest- 
Henry  J.  Finn 


CHAPTER    V. 

Miss  Rock — The  Tempest — Madame  Feron — James  H.  Hack- 
ett — Mr.  J.  Barnes — John  Augustus  Stone — Metamora — 
Mr.  William  Barry  more— Mrs.  Barrymore — Mr.  John  Sin- 
clair— A  Troublesome  Voice — Jupiter  and  his  Thunderbolt 
—Thomas  Kilner— Mr.  Charles  Kean— The  "Bite"  Theatre 
— Dwarf  Stars — Master  Burke — "  Prepare  for  the  Corona- 
tion " — "Jim  Crow  Rice" — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson — 
Riot  —  The  Portland  Theatre — Archer — Mr.  Forrest — The 
Penobscot  Braves  —  Forrest  at  Bay  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J. 
Barnes  —  Mr.  Wilson  —  Gabriel  Ravel  — John  Howard 
Payne . 


Contents.  xi 

CHAPTER    VI. 

Mr.  Charles  Kemble  —  Miss  Fanny  Kemble  —  Mr.  Charles 
Eaton — The  Lowell  Theatre — Arrest  and  Trial — Remark- 
able Evidence  of  Mr.  Frank  Kenny — Mr.  Tyrone  Power — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood — Mr.  John  Still — Mr.  James  Sheridan 
Knowles — His  Defense  of  the  Stage — Actor  and  Clergy- 
man—  His  Tomb  —  Centennial  of  Washington's  Birth  — 
Miss  Hamilton  —  Charles  Matthews  —  ' '  Shakespeare  a 
Scotsman" — Miss  Charlotte  Cushman — Her  Fondness  for 
Male  Characters— Miss  Watson — John  Reeve — The  Vet- 
eran Dowton — Mr.  James  E.  Murdoch 103 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Miss  Josephine  Clifton  —  Escape  from  a  Conflagration  —  Fatal 
Accident—  Yankee  Hill  —  The  Elder  Van  denhoff—  Miss 
Hildreth  —  Miss  Missouri  —  The  Count  Joannes  —  M'lle 
Augusta  —  The  Slomans  —  Mr.  Shales  —  Wreaths  and  Ser- 
vice of  Plate  —  Mr.  Emmons—  His  Patriotic  Oration  —  Mr. 
Sumner  L.  Fairfield  —  Mr.  Dan  Marble  —  Fanny  Ellsler 
and  Mons.  Sylvain  —  Bunker  Hill  Monument  Tablet  — 
Poem  ........................  125 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Mr.  Braham  —  The  Seguins  —  Mr.  Creswick  —  The  National 
Theatre  —  Mr.  Cooper  and  his  Daughter  —  Miss  Jean  Daven- 
port (Mrs.  Lander)  —  "  Mr.  Crummies  '  '  —  Mr.  Josh  Silsbee  — 
Mr.  Cartlitch  —  Acting  to  Music  —  Mr.  Rasimi  and  his 
"  Or  '  '  —  My  '  '  Guarded  '  '  Exit  —  Summer  Theatricals  — 
General  N.  P.  Banks  —  Hon.  Gideon  Haynes  —  Hon.  Nathan' 
Porter  —  Gen'l  Andrew  Jackson  —  Davy  Crockett  —  Aaron 
Burr  —  Mr.  Frederick  Brown  —  Mr.  Knaggs  Buries  Him- 
self —  Stage  Mistakes  —  Mrs.  Seymour.  -"l?5^^  .....  146 


OF  THE 


xii  Contents. 

CHAPTER    IX. 

Theatre  Royal,  Montreal — Mr.  Tuthill— Mr.  Charles  Dickens 
as  an  Actor— Walnut  St.  Theatre,  Philadelphia— Mr. 
William  Macready — Miss  Cushman — Mr.  Wm.  Wheatley's 
' '  Delicious  Half-hour, "  —  "  My  Delicious  Half-hour ' ' — Mr. 
D.  Rice  Counts  "Twenty" — The  Lax  Rehearsal — Mr. 
Edward  Davenport — Mr.  Spear — Miss  Cushman  and  Mr. 
Blake — Mr.  Peter  Richings — Miss  Caroline  Richings — 
Mr.  George  Jamison — "  Smithey  " — Mr.  William  B. 
Wood— Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Wallack,  Jr.— The  "Battle  of 
Germantown  " — Song  of  the  Rangers — "Freedom's  last 
Martyr  " — "  Campaign  of  the  Rio  Grande  " — The  ' '  Prairie 
Bird" — Birthday  Poem 


CHAPTER    X. 

The  ' '  Volunteer's  Return  ' ' —  The  ' '  Millionaire  ' ' — Alexina 
Fisher — Mr.  E.  A.  Marshal — Mrs.  Bowers — Kean — An 
"Actor's  Life" — Poem  —  The  Pennsylvania  Canal — The 
Ohio — St.  Louis  Theatre — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Farren — Mr. 
Stark — The  Heron  Family — Ludlow  and  Smith— M'lle 
Blangy— St.  Charles  Theatre,  N.  O.— The  ' '  Patriarchal 
Institution" — Mr.  Couldock — The  Great  Lakes  —  Miss 
Julia  Dean— Charles  Burke— The  "  Spirits  "—The  Bate- 
man  Children — Mr.  Bass — Return  to  Boston — Miss  Fanny 
Wallack— Barney  Williams— Celeste— Mr.  Gustavus  G. 
Brooke — George  Vandenhoif — Mrs.  Sinclair — Burning  of 
the  National  Theatre — Mr.  J.  P.  Addams — Lucille  and 
'  Helen  Western — The  New  National  Theatre — Mr.  Douglas 
Stewart — Mrs.  Archbold — Mrs.  George  Barrett — Wallack 
— Miss  Matilda  Heron — Anna  Cora  Mowatt — Mrs.  Melin- 
da  Jones — Mr.  Warwick 


Contents.  xiii 


CHAPTER    XI. 

The  Baltimore  Museum— Opening  Address — Mrs.  Silsbee — 
Mr.  William  Ellis — Miss  Marion — Mr.  C.  W.  Tayleure — 
Mr.  B.  Rogers — Mr.  Wm.  R.  Goodall — Miss  Albertine — 
Miss  Maggie  Mitchell — "Sandy"  Jamieson — Departure 
for  California — The  Argonauts — Kingston — "More  Isth- 
muses than  One  " — Early  California  Drama — The  "Eagle 
Theatre  ' '  in  Sacramento — Mr.  McCabe — The  ' '  Metropol- 
itan Theatre,  "San  Francisco — Madame  Bishop — Mr.  Wil- 
liam Barry — Caroline  Chapman — Mrs.  Judah — Mrs.  Saun- 
ders — Mr.  Thayer — Mr.  Rowe — Mr.  Stephen  Massett — 
Telegraph  Hill— Mr.  John  S.  Potter 218 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  Sacramento  Theatre — Mr.  Venua — Mr.  Dan  Virgil  Gates 
— Mr.  James  Stark  —  Mr.  Warwick  —  Mr.  Folland  —  Mr. 
Dumphries  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kent — Mr.  Joseph  Wilder  — 
Ivaura  Keene- — Lola  Montez  's  Marriage — Mr.  Edwin  Booth 
— The  Gougenheims — The  Forrest  Theatre — Mr.  Charles 
King  —  Mr.  George  Ryer — That  ' '  Rascal  Jack  ' '  —  Miss 
Sophie  Edwin — Mr.  John  Woodard — Mr.  Frank  Mayo — 
Mr.  McKean  Buchanan — Mr.  Harry  Palmer — The  Moun- 

»tain  Runaway  —  Poker — Jimmy  Griffiths  —  The  Narrow 
Escape — Miss  Virginia  Buchanan 243 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  Nicaragua  Route — Walker — Baltimore  Museum  —  Miss 
Annette  Ince — Stuart  Robson — Charles  Barton  Hill — Mr. 
and  Miss  Charles  —  George  E.  lyocke  —  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Florence — The  Ravels — Mrs.  Sydney  L.  Bateman — Return 


xiv  Contents. 

to  California — Mr.  J.  B.  Booth,  Jr. — Miss  Julia  Dean  Hayne 
— Miss  Louisa  Paullin — Travel  in  the  Mountains — Hang- 
town — Downieville — The  Drama  under  Difficulties — Mr. 
Edwin  Booth's  California  Career — Interior  Theatricals — 
•  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Wallack,  Jr. — Washington — Miss 
Albertine — Mrs.  John  Wood — Miss  Avonia  Jones  — ' '  The 
Seven  Sons"— Col.  E.  D.  Baker— Mrs.  Woodward— Mrs. 
Agnes  Booth — The  Mandeville  Sisters — Buchanan — Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Pope — Mr.  Forbes — Family  Jars — King 
Caucus.  . 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Washoe — Virginia  City — Zephyrs — Opening  Address — Salted 
Mines — A  Narrow  Escape — The  Sanitary  Fund — Grant 
and  Pemberton — Sacramento — Mr.  Albert  Hart — Adah 
Isaacs  Menken — Lake  Tahoe — The  Big  Trout — Mr.  S. 
Irwin — A  Mormon  Bishop — The  Hawaiian  Islands — Hon- 
olulu—Ada Clare  —  The  Royal  Yacht  —  Volcano  of 
Kilauea— Hilo — The  Pic-Nic — Native  Bathing — Dramatic 
Reading — Honolulu — King  Kalakaua — The  Hula-hula .  .  293 


CHAPTER    XV. 

Home  and  Return  —  Mr.  Charles  Thome,  Jr.  —  Mr.  George 
Pauncefort — Mr.  Louis  Aldrich — Mr.  Pierrepont  Thayer — 
The  Marysville  Theatre — Opening  Address — Vestvali — 
Bandmann  —  Miss  Charlotte  Crampton  —  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Harry  Jackson — "The  Seven  Sisters" — Baker — Miss  Em- 
ily Thome — Mr.  Edwin  Forrest — Isthmus  of  Nicaragua — 
Sharks — Fourth  of  July  at  Sea— Mrs.  Sedley  Brown — The 
Enterprise  and  Boxer — Boston  Theatre — Mr.  Frank  Mayo 
— Lotta— Mr.  Bascomb— Mr.  J.  Scott  — Mr.  Edward  L. 
Davenport — Dora— Yosemite— Hon.  Mrs.  Yelverton  ...  321 


Contents.  xv 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Mr.  Joseph  Proctor — Mr.  Cathcart — Miss  Sue  Robinson — Miss 
Rose  Evans — Miss  Eva  West — Mr.  Eben  Plympton — Viv- 
ian— Mr.  John  McCullough — Salt  Lake — Brigham  Young 
— California  Theatre  Company — The  Emperor  of  Brazil — 
Mr.  John  Raymond — An  Actor's  Fatality — Mrs.  John 
Drew — Semi-Centennial  Benefit — Portland  Theatre — Van- 
couver —  An  Indian  Talk  —  Walla  -  Walla  —  Miss  Rose 
Eytinge — Puget  Sound — Victoria 353 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Robinson — Miss  Georgie  Woodthorpe — Mr.  Samuel  W. 
Piercy — Captain  Jack  Crawford — Romeo  and  Juliet — Ben- 
efit— The  Stage — Its  Influence  on  Society — The  Starring 
System — An  American  Drama — Europe — Killarney — The 
Irish  Problem — Chester — Glasgow — The  Land  o'  Burns — 
Rothsay  Castle — Stirling — Edinburgh— Abbotsford — Lon- 
don— Obsequies  of  Grant — Paris — Venice — Verona  and  its 
Amphitheatre — Home. 378 


MEMORIES  OF  AN  OLD  ACTOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

School.  Remembrances — Juvenile  Theatricals  —  Competition 
Status  of  the  Theatre  in  the  United  States  sixty  years 
ago — Number  of  Theatres — Managerial  Control — By  whom 
held  in  the  Eastern  States — In  the  Middle  States— In  the 
West  —  The  Starring  System  —  Theatrical  Advertising— 
Kean — Cooper  —  Booth — The  Elder  Wallack  —  Forrest — 
Miss  Lydia  Kelly  —  Mrs.  J.  Barnes  —  Mrs.  Drake  —  Mrs. 
Sloman— Miss  Clara  Fisher— The  Federal  Street  Theatre 
— Mrs.  Powell — Mrs.  Papanti — The  Kean  riot — Joe  Cowell 
— Watkins  Burroughs — Flynn. 


W 


ITH  the  opening  of  the  Tremont  Theatre, 
in  the  city  of  Boston,  in  the  year  1827, 
commenced  my  theatrical  life ;  but  my  remem- 
brances of  the  theatre,  and  the  players  antedate 
that  event  by  some  three  years,  when,  a  restive 
yoiith  of  fifteen,  I  returned  to  my  parental  home 
from  Bradford  Academy,  which,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  distinguished  mathematician  and 


2  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

scholar,  Benjamin  Greenleaf,  held  a  high  rank 
among  the  schools  of  New  England  sixty  years 
ago. 

I  had  been  bitten  by  the  stage  mania  before  I 
went  to  Bradford,  had  nursed  the  craze  while 
there,  and  hence  found  the  duties  of  a  subor- 
dinate clerk,  which  position  was  obtained  for  me 
soon  after  my  return  home,  each  day  more  and 
more  irksome— for  an  actor's  life  was  in  my  ex- 
cited imagination  the  summit  of  earthly  bliss. 

In  my  younger  schoolboy  days  I  had  reveled 
with  lads  of  my  own  age  in  the  garret  and  cellar 
theatricals,  which  have  ever  been  so  fascinating 
to  youth. 

There  were  two  little  girls,  the  daughters  of 
Mrs.  Drummond,  the  actress — better  known  at  a 
later  day  as  Mrs.  Geo.  Barrett — residing  during 
their  mother's  absence,  at  the  house  of  a  neigh- 
bor, and  their  half-brother,  Samuel  Stockwell, 
who  subsequently  became  a  scenic  artist  of 
eminence,  was  a  school  and  playmate  of  mine. 
His  family  associations  had  familiarized  him, 
even  at  that  early  age,  with  the  paraphernalia 
and  adjuncts  of  the  theatre,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  he  was  our  stage  manager. 

Our  performances  were  a  combination  of  the 
dramatic  and  equestrian,  our  chief  reliance  in 
the  ring  department  being  a  highly  intelligent 
dog  belonging  to  Sam  Tapley,  who  could  leap 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  3 

banners  and  jump  through  hoops  with  vigor,  if 
not  with  grace ;  but,  truth  to  say,  Spring — that 
was  his  name — by  some  unlucky  dog  perversity, 
often  did  as  much  to  spoil  as  to  perfect  our  grand 
Saturday  and  Wednesday  afternoon  matinees — 
which  were  fashionable  because  school  didn't 
keep — and  on  one  occasion,  when  we  had  a  grand 
performance  in  the  upper  story  of  a  house  which 
stood  upon  ground  where,  some  years  before,  the 
famous  circus  of  Pepin  and  Breschard  was  located, 
Spring,  inspired  perhaps  by  some  canine  instinct 
with  the  feats  of  his  biped  predecessors,  dashed 
out  of  the  ring  with  his  triumphal  chariot  bear- 
ing a  black  cat,  designated  on  our  written  play- 
bill as  Madame  Clawrine  Squallerini,  and  the 
whole  outfit  tumbled  head  over  heels  down  stairs 

to  the  infinite   alarm  and  terror  of  Mrs.  J , 

the  lady  of  the  house.  This  untoward  effect 
brought  our  season  to  an  abrupt  close. 

As  with  actors  of  mature  growth,  there  was 
contention  for  the  best  parts.  My  especial  fit- 
ness, in  my  own  eyes,  was  for  Tragedy — the 
more  pronounced  the  better,  and  if  a  tragic 
tyrant,  better  still.  At  a  later  period  I  felt 
highly  aggrieved  when  my  teacher  selected  as 
my  theme  for  declamation,  Lucius'  -speech  for 
peace,  when  I  particularly  wanted  Sempronius' 
speech  for  war.  When  the  other  boy  stepped  on 
the  platform  and,  striking  an  attitude,  began 


4  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

with  "  My  voice  is  still  for  war!"  the  burning 
envy  I  felt  when  those  words  fell  from  his  lips, 
in  tones  not  half  as  loud  as  I  would  have  used, 
was  but  slightly  modified  by  pity  for  my  teach- 
er's lack  of  judgment.  To  speak  with  candor, 
my  juvenile  efforts  at  school  were  not  a  success, 
and  my  elocutionary  record  at  the  academy  was 
the  reverse  of  flattering.  At  the  graduating 
exhibition  I  selected  for  delivery  a  fugitive  poem, 
the  theme  of  which  was  the  imprisonment  and 
death  of  Napoleon  at  St.  Helena.  At  this  day  I 
do  not  remember  a  word  of  the  poem,  excepting 
the  last  line,  typifying  the  excitement  among 
the  nations  of  the  earth  when  news  of  the  great 
event  should  be  spread  abroad  like— 

"  A  thunder  shock  from  that  lone  rock." 

I  intended  to  be  impressive,  but  the  inattention 
with  which  my  commencement  was  received, 
made  all  the  worse  by  what  seemed  to  me  an 
inclination  to  laugh  as  I  progressed,  utterly  dis- 
concerted me.  Many  of  the  auditors  were  young 
lady  pupils,  three  or  four  years  my  senior,  and 
to  have  my  sounding  periods  greeted  with  laugh- 
ter broke-  me  down  completely.  I  struggled 
through  after  a  fashion,  but  my  disgust  was 
intensified  when,  on  the  following  day,  one  fair 
girl,  in  whose  eyes  I  especially  desired  to  stand 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  5 

well,  told  me  that  she  u  felt  so  sorry  for  me,  for 
I  appeared  very  stupid." 

Such  a  "  thunder  shock "  as  that  ought  to 
have  cured  me,  but  it  didn't. 

The  status  and  personal  appreciation  of  the 
theatre  and  players  in  the  United  States,  sixty 
years  ago,  were  in  marked  contrast  with  the 
opinions  of  to-day.  Outside  of  a  half  dozen  of 
the  larger  cities  on  or  near  the  seaboard,  and  a 
few  of  the  State  capitals,  the  acted  drama  was 
almost  unknown.  Only  a  few  of  the  interior 
towns  boasted  a  theatre,  and  many  so-called  the- 
atres were  simply  halls  where  the  drama  occa- 
sionally found  a  temporary  footing.  In  the  New 
England  States,  apart  from  Boston,  which  con- 
tained two  theatres,  there  were  but  two  others, 
one  each  in  Providence  and  Newport,  and  neither 
of  these  were  open  more  than  two  or  three 
months  in  a  year.  In  the  city  of  New  York 
there  were,  I  believe,  some  five  or  six,  only  three 
of  which  were  kept  open  with  any  permanence  ; 
and  there  was  also  a  theatre  in  Albany.  Phila- 
delphia had  three,  Pittsburgh  one,  Baltimore  two 
and  Charleston  one.  There  was  also  a  theatre 
in  Mobile  and  three  in  New  Orleans,  one  of 
which  was  exclusively  devoted  to  French  drama 
and  opera.  In  the  political  capitals  of  some  of 
the  Middle  and  Southern  Commonwealths  the 
drama  had  occasionally  a  fitful  existence  during 
the  legislative  sessions. 


6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

In  the  then  almost  unknown  West,  the  em- 
bryo stage  was  dominated  by  lyudlow  and  Smith, 
and  the  Chapman  Family  floated  down  the  placid 
stream  of  the  Ohio  and  the  turbid  waters  of  the 
Mississippi  in  a  temple  of  the  muses  erected  upon 
a  flat-boat,  where  the  study  of  Shakespeare  alter- 
nated with  the  perusal  of  Izaac  Walton.  And 
unremunerative  acting  was  often  supplemented 
by  profitable  fishing,  bites  at  the  hook  in  the 
water  bringing  in  more  plunder,  as  it  was  termed 
in  western  phrase,  than  bites  at  'the  bait  in  the 
box  office. 

I  heard  Mr.  Cooper  say  in  1828  that  he  had 
played  in  sixty  theatres  in  the  Union,  and  cer- 
tainly there  was  in  the  United  States  hardly  a 
theatre  in  which  Thomas  A.  Cooper  had  not 
played.  I  do  not  think  that  buildings  devoted 
to  the  purposes  of  the  drama  could  have  exceeded 
sixty  in  number  in  the  year  1825. 

The  managerial  power  was  held  in  New  York, 
at  the  "Park"  by  Price  and  Simpson,  and  by 
Gilbert  at  the  "  Bowery."  In  Boston,  by  Kilner 
and  Finn,  with  James  A.  Dickson — the  "  power 
behind  the  throne."  Warren  and  Wood  con- 
trolled the  theatres  in  Philadelphia  and  Bal- 
timore;  James  H.  Caldwell,  magistrate  and 
merchant,  politician  and  player,  wielded  the 
managerial  sceptre  in  the  South,  and  Ludlow 
and  Sol.  Smith  had  the  wide,  wide  West  to  them- 
selves— a  boundless  kingdom  all  their  own. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  7 

The  starring  system,  so  called,  had  been  in 
vogue  for  many  years,  but  the  "  stars  "  of  that 
era  far  exceeded  in  magnitude  and  effulgence 
most  of  the  blinking  luminaries  of  to-day.  Every 
theatre  of  any  importance  had  its  permanent 
dramatic  corps,  in  which  the  local  favorites  were 
continued  from  season  to  season ;  this  was  of 
mutual  advantage  to  the  manager  and  actor,  and 
changes  were  infrequent.  It  was  the  day  of 
established  stock  companies  of  actors,  not  of  trav- 
eling combinations  ^performers.  And  the  stars 
of  that  period  carried  around  with  them  no  queues 
of  feeble  satellites  merely  to  give  cues,  for  they 
were,  in  general,  sure  of  efficient  support.  Rela- 
tively to  the  population  and  number  of  playgoers 
the  recognized  stars  of  the  theatrical  firmament 
were  in  number  far  less  than  to-day ;  but  they 
shone  with  their  own  light  and  not  with  the  bor- 
rowed glimmer  of  many  of  those  who  now  shoot 
through  the  theatrical  sky.  The  stage  was  a 
profession,  and  men  would  not  have  been  ac- 
cepted as  stars  because  they  had  failed  in  trade, 
didn't  want  to  go  to  work,  and  had  succeeded  in 
borrowing  enough  money  to  start  "on  the  road" 
with  a  "grand  combination."  Such  "Stars" 
would  have  had  to  begin  at  the  bottom — and 
would  have  ended  where  they  began. 

Theatrical  advertising  did  not  then  run  riot 
as  now.  Kean  and  Cooke  and  the  Kembles  and 


8  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

their  compeers  were  announced  to  the  public  by 
three-sheet  posters,  not  by  three  hundred  square 
feet  of  printer's  ink,  with  colored  "  picters-to- 
match,"  in  all  the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  with 
their  names  emblazoned  in  type  exceeding  in 
magnitude,  on  every  dead-wall  in  our  cities,  that 
which  recounts  the  miraculous  virtues  of  "  Rough 
on  Rats"  or  proclaims  the  triumphs  of  Sullivan 
the  Slogger. 

We  go  sometimes  one  night,  perhaps,  to  see 
one  of  these  foggy  orbs,  endure  the  evening's 
torture  with  what  patience  we  can,  and  sadly 
wend  our  homeward  way,  recalling  the  child's 
couplet — 

' '  Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  star, 
How  we  wonder  what  you  are. ' ' 

In  my  early  days  there  were  in  the  theatres 
of  the  North  not  more  than  five  or  six  weekly 
performances.  English  comedy  and  farce  were 
popular,  and  the  standard  tragedies,  if  well  acted, 
were  attractive.  Musical  comediettas  were  in 
favor,  as  was  ballad-opera.  What  is  in  our  day 
called  English  opera  was  almost  unknown,  and 
Italian  opera  had  been  heard  <9/but  never  heard 
or  seen.  If  there  was  no  American  Drama ,  there 
was  what  was  called  the  Yankee  Drama.  The 
Irish  Drama  was  just  born,  but  the  Ethiopian 
Drama  had  not  yet  seen  the  light. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  9 

With  the  play-goers  of  the  time  the  bril- 
liant and  versatile  Hodgkiiison,  the  "  Admirable 
Crichton"  of  his  day,  whose  death  was  so  sudden 
and  so  tragic,  was  a  vivid  remembrance.  Mrs. 
Merry,  afterwards  Mrs.  Warren,  the  Miss  Brun- 
ton  of  the  London  stage,  who,  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen, flashed  into  view  with  a  splendor  that 
almost  rivalled  that  of  Siddons,  had  passed  away 
but  was  not  forgotten.  The  erratic  Fennel,  an- 
other of  the  magnates  of  the  mimic  world,  had 
departed — as  had  Cooke,  a  mightier  spirit  still — 
never  to  return.  John  Howard  Payne,  the  won- 
derful boy,  whom  the  harshest  criticism  acknowl- 
edged an  actor  of  remarkable  power,  was  on  a 
foreign  shore ;  but  there  was  a  shining  galaxy 
of  luminaries  before  the  American  public :  James 
Wallack,  Senior,  the  first  and  "  greatest  of  his 
tribe,"  made  periodical  visits  to  tbe  States  ;  Kean 
had  made  his  first  visit,  and  was  then  in  the 
agony  of  his  last,  fighting  at  disadvantage  with 
an  angry  public  ;  Macready  had  been  twice  over 
the  sea  to  our  shores ;  Hamblin  had  began  to 
shine,  but  with  a  lesser  light;  Cooper  had  a  little 
passed  the  zenith  of  his  fame ;  Conway's  bril- 
liant but  fitful  course  was  nearing  its  fatal  close  ; 
Forrest's  successful  career  had  just  begun;  and 
Jimius  Brutus  Booth — THE  Booth — stood  forth, 
in  the  opinion  of  men  of  wisest  censure — the 
more  than  peer — the  very  foremost  man  of  all. 


io  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

There  were  not  so  many  starring  aspirants 
among  the  gentle  sex  half  a  century  ago  as  now. 
Miss  Lydia  Kelly,  a  dashing  actress,  and  a  very 
handsome  woman,  was  much  before  the  public 
of  the  Atlantic  cities.  Mrs.  J.  Barnes  and  Mrs. 
Drake  occasionally  made  starring  tours  ;  both  of 
these  ladies  were  tragediennes.  Miss  Kelly  was 
a  comedienne.  Mrs.  Sloman,  was  another  tragic 
star  of  superior  merit.  Mrs.  Knight  starred  in 
the  lyric  drama.  But  Miss  Clara  Fisher's  popu- 
larity far  exceeded  that  of  any  starring  actress 
of  the  period.  Wherever  she  appeared  the  pub- 
lic patronage  was  liberally  bestowed. 

The  period  of  time  between  my  leaving  school 
at  Bradford  and  entering  the  theatre,  seems  in 
memory  to  be  surrounded  with  a  halo  of  bright- 
ness which  no  after-time  has  equalled. 

I  was  only  a 'store  boy,  to  be  sure,  but  I  lived 
in  a  realm  of  dreams,  bright  with  anticipa- 
tions of  a  great  future,  when  I  should  cast  my 
shell  and  be  an  actor.  I  read  every  play-book 
good  and  bad,  that  I  could  lay  my  hands  upon, 
and  obtained  access  to  the  theatre  by  any  and 
every  means  in  my  power.  When  I  could  not 
raise  the  necessary  half-dollar  for  the  pit,  I  would 
patronize  the  gallery,  if  I  had  the  necessary- 
quarter  ;  books  of  theatrical  biography  had  more 
attraction  than  the  day-book  or  ledger.  My  em- 
ployer had  no  taste  for  the  drama,  and  looked 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  1 1 

with  marked  disapprobation  on  my  growing  fond- 
ness for  the  theatre.  The  store  being  kept  open 
during  evening  hours,  it  was  difficult  to  see  the 
play  in  its  entirety  —  but  I  could  always  see  the 
after-piece  —  and  the  enforced  delay  lessened  the 
expense,  for  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  obtain 
the  return-check  of  some  retiring  auditor.  The 
meagre  salary  of  a  lad  of  fifteen  would  not  admit 
of  a  large  out-lay  for  polite  amusements  —  but 
the  theatre  got  the  half  of  my  small  income  all 
the  time. 

With  what  delight  I  used  to  sit  in  the  pit  of 
the  Old  Federal  St.  Theatre,  and  drink  in,  so  to 
speak — Kilner,  Finn,  Dan  Reed,  John  Mills 
Brown,  Mrs.  Powell,  Mrs.  Pelby,  and  the  other 
"  good  ones  "  of  those  days,  whose  features,  not- 
withstanding the  sixty  years  that  have  whitened 
my  hair  and  dimmed  my  vision,  seem  familiar 
as  a  thing  of  yesterday.  I  shall  have  something 
more  to  say  of  these  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but 
will  here  refer  to  but  two  of  the  company.  Mrs. 
Powell  was  the  widow  of  Mr.  Snelling  Powell, 
the  first  manager  of  the  Boston  Theatre ;  in  her 
youth  she  had  played  with  Mrs.  Siddons,  and  as 
a  Shakespearean  actress,  was  entitled  to  a  high 
rank.  She  was  the  original  representative  in 
Boston  of  many  characters  which  still  hold  a 
position  among  the  popular  representations  of 
to-day,  u  Meg  Merriles  "  is  one  of  these.  I  was 


12  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

not  more  startled,  years  after,  by  Miss  Cushman's 
creation  of  "  Meg,"  than  by  that  of  Mrs.  Powell, 
but  I  was  but  a  boy  when  I  saw  Mrs.  Powell,  and 
had  been  familiarized  by  long  experience  of  the 
"  trick  of  the  scene,"  and  personal  acquaintance 
with  Miss  Cushman,  it  was  perhaps  the  glamour 
of  a  first  impression.  Mrs.  Powell  was  an  ex- 
emplary mother,  and  stood  in  the  highest  social 
regard  —  her  annual  benefits  often  netted  $i',ooo. 

Mrs.  Papanti  was  another  member  of  the  old 
Boston  Company,  and  was  one  of  my  chief  idols. 
She  was  a  piquante  and  fascinating  actress,  and 
esteemed  as  of  a  higher  order  of  merit  as  a 
vocalist  than  any  predecessor  for  many  years. 
I  remember  her  first  appearance  as  Rosalvini,  in 
the  opera  of  "  The  Devils  Bridge."  Her  hus- 
band, Signor  Papanti,  was  a  member  of  the 
orchestra.  He  became  subsequently  a  teacher  of 
dancing,  and  for  several  seasons  managed  the 
celebrated  Boston  "  Almacks,"  these  famous  as- 
semblies were  composed  of  the  creme-de-creme  of 
Boston  society.  The  lady  patronesses  were  as 
rigid  in  their  rules  of  admission  to  the  charmed 
circle  as  their  London  predecessors.  Signor  P. 
subsequently  married  a  Boston  lady  of  dazzling 
beauty,  an  aunt  of  the  present  wife  of  Mr. 
Laurence  Barrett. 

The  Kean  riot  which  occurred  in  the  fall  of 
1825,  is  one  °f  the  vivid  memories  of  my  early 


-Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  13 

days  —  it  was  the  parallel  in  many  respects  of 
the  Astor  Place  riot,  which  occurred  many  years 
later,  but  unlike  that  it  was  attended  with  no  loss 
of  life.  Mr.  Kean  is  one  of  the  great  actors  of 
old,  whom  I  can  not  boast  of  having  seen  act, 
for  on  that  stormy  night  the  acting  was  monopo- 
lized by  his  opponents.  He  appeared  upon  the 
stage  in  citizens  private  apparel,  but  met  by  the 
howling  tempest  of  popular  fury  was  driven  with 
every  species  of  opprobrium  from  the  boards. 

Another  great  remembrance  of  my  stage-struck 
era,  was  the  production  of  the  romantic  spectacle 
play,  "  Cherry  and  Fair  Star."  I  could  never,  if 
I  would,  forget  "  Cherry  and  Fair  Star."  Per- 
haps not  one  of  my  readers  ever  saw  "  Cherry 
and  Fair  Star  "  —  great  their  loss  if  they  chanced 
to  be  boy  or  girl  in  their  "  teens  "  !  When  the 
great  gilded  galley  swept  the  circle  of  the  stage 
on  the  billowy  surface  of  that  ocean  of  cotton 
cloth  (it  was  to  my  charmed  eyes  an  ocean  of  real 
water),  whose  waves  beat  higher  and  wilder  than 
any  I  have  since  seen  in  the  theatre.  When 
u  Sanguinbeck "  (Sanguinbeck,  does  not  the 
very  name  bespeak  what  kind  of  a  man  he  was) , 
when  "  Sanguinbeck "  flourished  his  bloody 
dagger ;  when  "  Topac  "  ran  after  his  enchanted 
snow-ball ;  when  "  Cherry  "  thridded  the  forest 
glade  with  hunters  horn  and  boar  spear,  and 
woke  the  echoes  for  the  charming  u  Fair  Star." 


14  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor: 

Oh  !  how  I  envied  Mrs.  Pelby  and  Mrs.  Finn  — 
Messrs.  Finn  and  Reed  —  the  luxnry  of  living 
and  being  part  and  parcel  of  a  world  which  I  was 
as  yet,  bnt  permitted  to  look  npon,  but  not  to 
enter. 

The  amphitheatre  in  "  Washington  Gardens," 
opposite  the  Mall,  had  been  opened  to  the  pnblic 
under  the  name  of  the  "  City  Theatre,"  by  Mr. 
Cowell  —  familiarly  known  as  Joe  Cowell  —  (of 
whom  more  anon)  two  years  prior  to  the  time  of 
which  I  now  speak.  In  May,  1825,  it  was  opened 
under  the  management  of  Watkins  Burroughs, 
who  was  a  melo-dramatic  actor  of  rare  abilities. 
The  representation  of  a  rather  turgid  play,  dram- 
atized from  Lord  Byron's  poem,  "  The  Bride  of 
Abydos,"  was  another  of  the  well-remembered 
milestones  of  my  stage-struck  days.  The  piece 
was  produced  with  great  splendor,  and  when  the 
handsome  Burroughs,  playing  "  Selim  "  to  the 
"  Zulicka  "  of  Mrs.  Robertson,  a  fascinating  mem- 
ber of  his  corps,  entered  on  the  scene  with  that 
lady,  both  superbly  costumed,  they  seemed  the 
very  beau-ideal  of  Oriental  splendor.  The  gos- 
sip of  the  day  was  very  busy  with  the  names  of 
the  lady  and  gentleman,  which  was  probably  not 
lessened  by  the  dashing  fcmr-in-hand  drives  in 
which  they  indulged.  When  the  young  bloods 
of  the  town  saw  the  magnificent  turnout,  I  do 
not  know  but  they  envied  the  popular  actor  as 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  15 

much  for  his  good  fortune  off  as  on  the  boards. 
I  know  that  for  myself  it  made  my  stage  mania 
all  the  stronger.  I  believe  that  Mrs.  Robertson 
afterwards  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Geo.  Coppin, 
the  well-known  actor  and  manager  of  the  Aus- 
tralian theatres,  and  prominent,  also,  in  colonial 
politics.  The  "  Selim  "  and  "  Zulicka  "  of  my  boy- 
hood admiration  have  both  gone  to  the  far  beyond. 
Another  of  the  remembrances  of  the  long-ago, 
is  Thomas  Flynn.  He  was  brought  out  from  the 
Haymarket  for  the  Federal  St.  Theatre,  and  an- 
nounced as  principal  tragedian.  Although  a 
clever  actor,  he  was  never  much  of  a  tragedian. 
His  career  was  a  remarkable  one,  and  his  voyage 
of  life  grew  very  dark  towards  its  close.  In- 
volved in  continual  managerial  squabbles,  he  did 
not  always  adhere  to  the  strict  line  of  truth,  and 
when  under  the  influence,  which  was  too  often  the 
case,  would  draw  largely  upon  his  imagination 
for  his  facts.  He  married  a  Miss  Twibill,  a  lady 
of  great  personal  beauty,  who  was,  I  think,  a 
member  of  the  Albany  company.  Tom  always 
had  a  high  opinion  of  his  own  merits,  but  a  still 
higher  one  of  his  wife's — his  u  Tilly,"  as  he  al- 
ways called  her.  A  friend  of  his,  who  had  lost 
sight  of  him  for  some  months,  chanced  to  meet 
him  unexpectedly  while  travelling,  in  an  appar- 
'ently  prosperous  condition,  clad  in  glossy  black, 
with  an  air  of  contentment  and  sleek  self-satis- 


1 6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

faction  in  his  face.  "Tom,  old  friend,"  said  he, 
"  how  glad  I  am  to  meet  you ;  you  look  finely. 
What  are  you  doing  here?  playing,  I  suppose." 
-"Playing,"  replied  Tom,  "no,  thir,"— Tom 
spoke  with  a  slight  lisp — "  No,  thir  ;  I've  done 
with  playing.  I  play  no  more,  thir." — u  And 
what  are  3^011  doing,  Ton;  ?  "  -"  Doing,  my  boy  ? 
I'm  delivering  temperance  lectures.  I've  hit  my 
right  line  of  business,  at  last."-— "And  how  are 
you  doing  ?" — "  Thsplendidly  ;  thsplendidly,  my 
boy.  Come  and  hear  me  ;  crowded  houthes  all 
the  time." — u  And  how  is  Mrs.  Flynn  ?  Does 
she  lecture,  too ?"  —  "  Tilly  ?  Oh  no!  Tilly's 
playing,  and  doing  thsplendidly,  too.  Such  an 
im-mense  favorite ;  we're  both  of  us  raking  ''em 
in.  All  the  old  women  in  town  are  stuck  after 
me,  and  Tilly's  got  all  the  young  men  by  the 
hair."  Poor  Tom's  a  "  cold  "  now  ;  he  has  been 
dead  many  a  year.  Be  his  virtues  remembered 
— his  frailties  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Dry  Goods  and  the  Drama — Opening  of  the  Tremont  Theatre — 
Prize  Address— William  Rufus  Blake— Mr.  Webb— Dan 
Reed — John  Mills  Brown — Signer  Ostinelli — EHse  Bis- 
caccianti — James  Kendall — Miss  Lydia  Kelly — Mr. 
Frithey  — Hyatt— The  Forfeit  Book— Mr.  Doyne— My 
First  Part. 

MY  fondness  for  the  theatre,  was,  as  I  have 
said,  very  distasteful  to  my  employer,  and 
the  relation  of  master  and  servant  became  un- 
satisfactory to  both,  not  that  I  neglected  the 
honest  performance  of  duty  while  on  duty  ;  but  he 
knew  that  my  heart  was  far  away  from  my  busi- 
ness, and  rightly  thought  that  a  stage-struck  boy 
was  not  so  likely  to  advance  his  interests  behind 
the  counter  or  in  the  office  as  one  who  had  a 
real  love  of  trade.  The  growing  dissatisfaction 
on  both  sides  culminated  in  an  abrupt  manner, 
which  may  be  told  in  a  few  words ;  there  w^as  a 
lad,  a  townsman  of  mine,  employed  in  the  store 
of  a  gentleman,  with  whom  my  principal  had 
intimate,  personal  and  business  relations,  both 
establishments  were  kept  open  in  the  evening. 


i8  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  had  been  sent  over  to  the  store  of  Mr.  T- 
which  was  in  that  part  of  the  city  then  known  as 
Cornhill  or  New  Market  St.,  with  a  message,  and  if 

Mr.  T was  absent,  was  told  to  await  his  return. 

Mr.  T was   absent,   and  young  Thompson, 

who,  as  well  as  myself  was  stage-struck,  although 
in  a  lesser  degree,  suggested  that  it  would  be  a 
favorable  time  to  rehearse.  It  was  just  between 
the  daylight  and  dark  of  a  summer  evening,  when 
few  customers  were  abroad,  and  I  gladly  seconded 
his  proposal.  The  raised  floor  in  the  rear  part 
of  the  store  made  an  admirable  stage,  and  when 
after  a  desperate  conflict  (with  yardsticks) ,  I  had 
been  overthrown  as  Richard,  and  had  got  as  far 
in  my  dying  speech  as  —  "  Now  let  the  world  no 
longer  be  a  stage,  etc.,"  I  chanced  to  glance 
towards  the  front  door  of  the  store,  and  there  in 
a  crowd  of  street-passers,  who  had  stopped  to 
enjoy  our  amateur  performance,  I  saw  the  angry 
face  of  my  employer,  and  his  entrance  stopped 
the  play  and  dropped  the  curtain ;  within  a  week 
I  prudently  "  retired  with  a  good  grace  "  from  a 
position  which  in  military  phrase  was  no  longer 
"  tenable." 

The  corner-stone  of  the  Tremont  Theatre  was 
laid  on  the  4th  of  July,  1827  5  as  the  handsome 
granite  front  approached  completion  it  was  looked 
upon  by  Bostonians  of  the  day,  with  admiration 
and  pride,  and  I  lingered  around  the  building, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  19 

and  wondered  if  I  should  ever  be  an  actor  beneath 
its  roof.  Mr.  Pelby  had  offered  in  the  previous 
May  a  premium  of  money  or  plate  to  the  author 
of  the  best  poem  for  the  opening  night,  and  that 
opening  night  was  now  approaching.  I  had 
failed  by  epistolary  efforts  to  get  into  the  "  Fed- 
eral St."  My  letters  to  Mr.  Kilner  perhaps  un- 
read, or,  if  read,  committed  to  the  waste  basket, 
and  I  dared  not  venture  a  personal  application, 
for  I  had  hung  around  the  entrance  to  the  theatre 
in  the  Washington  Gardens  in  vain  effort  to 
interview  Mr.  Burroughs,  until  I  had  exhausted 
the  patience  of  the  gate-keeper,  who  looked  upon 
me  as  a  nuisance,  but  perhaps,  with  the  new 
theatre  my  opportunity  had  come,  and  I  desper- 
ately resolved  upon  another  trial ;  with  a  timid 
hand  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  manager's 
residence,  which  was  opened  by  the  servant, 
"Was  Mr.  Pelby  within?"  "  No !  but  Mrs. 
Pelby  was,"  and  as  he  answered,  that  stately  lady 
approached  from  the  hall,  with  a  scrutinizing 
glance  which  said  as  plainly  as  words  could  have 
done  —  "  I  know  your  complaint,  young  man." 
She  politely  informed  me  that  Mr.  Pelby  could 
be  seen  at  a  certain  hour ;  and  at  that  hour  on 
the  day  following  I  went  to  know  my  fate.  Mr. 
Pelby  received  me  with  courtesy,  and  talked  to 
me  with  candor.  "  His  company  was  engaged." 
Novices  were  ineligible,  and  no  more  actors  were 


2O  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

wanted,  but  what  was  wanted  wras  a  call  boy  or 
prompter's  assistant.  Would  I  be  willing  to  en- 
gage as  call  boy  ?  Willing  —  indeed  I  was 
willing  ;  in  was  removing  the  first  obstacle  in  my 
path  ;  it  was  unbarring  the  stage-door ;  it  was 
lifting  the  veil  of  the  green-room  ;  it  was  getting 
into  the  theatre.  The  rest  lay  with  myself — I 
should  be  an  actor  at  last.  I  instantly  answered, 
"  yes  !  "  I  was  told  to  wait  upon  the  manager  on 
the  following  morning,  and  be  ready  for  the 
opening  within  a  week,  and  thus  commenced  my 
theatrical  career  —  as  call  boy  of  the  Tremont 
Theatre,  on  a  salary  of  three  dollars  a  week, 
fifty-nine  years  ago. 

Mr.  William  Pelby  was,  I  believe,  a  native  of 
western  New  York.  A  difficulty  between  him 
and  the  managers  of  the  old  theatre,  ended  with 
his  withdrawal.  His  friends  rallied  around  him 
and  proposed  the  building  of  a  new  theatre,  to 
"  see  him  righted."  The  quarrels  of  actors  and 
managers,  then  as  now,  were  often  exaggerated 
into  a  fictitious  importance.  Mr.  Pelby  was  an 
actor  of  judgment,  had  frequently  played  as  a 
star,  and  had  appeared  once  before  a  London 
audience  in  the  interest  of  some  public  charity, 
for  which  he  had  been  presented  with  a  handsome 
gold  medal.  He  was  handicapped  by  very  weak 
lungs,  and  sometimes  his  best  tragic  efforts  were 
utterly  marred  by  the  failure  of  his  voice.  He 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  21 

was  in  latter  years  intimately  associated  with  trie 
Boston  stage  both  as  actor  and  manager. 

The  prize  address  delivered  on  the  opening 
night  was  as  O'Dedimus  says,  a  "  mysterious 
mystery  "  at  the  time,  and  has  ever  remained  so  ; 
none  of  the  pieces  sent  in  were  deemed  by  the 
Committee  of  Judges,  to  possess  much  poetical 
excellence ;  but  the  poem  by  "  Theron "  was 
thought  to  be  the  most  worthy,  and  to  that  the 
prize  was  awarded.  The  sealed  envelope  accom- 
panying the  poem  contained  the  name  of  "J. 
Jamieson,  Hartford,  Conn."  From  all  quarters 
came  the  inquiry,  who  is  J.  Jamieson  ?  Hartford 
was  searched  through  and  through,  the  post- 
master, the  clergyman,  the  undertakers  even, 
were  consulted  as  to  the  missing  man,  but  no  J. 
Jamieson  was  ever  found.  The  topic  was  dis- 
cussed for  months,  but,  after  the  lapse  of  more 
than  half  a  century,  it  is  a  matter  of  no  conse- 
quence who  he  was  or  may  have  been.  The 
prize  money  was  paid  to  the  Rev.  John  Pierre- 
pont,  who  received  it  as  the  agent  of  the  author. 
That  eminent  divine,  who  then,  and  afterwards, 
filled  so  large  a  space  in  the  public  eye  as  a 
writer  and  poet,  was  well-known  to  be  a  man  of 
advanced  liberal  views,  and  there  were  many  who 
thought  that  J.  Jamieson  was  no  other  than  John 
Pierrepont ;  indeed,  the  charge  was  publicly  made, 
but  Mr.  Pierrepont  never  either  admitted  or 


22  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

denied  the  accusation,  and  to  this  day  J.  Jamieson 
of  Hartford,  remains  the  "  great  unknown." 

I  append,  a  passage  or  two  from  this  much- 
disputed  address  : 

"  Friends  of  the  stage,  the  friends  of  virtue  too, 
The  suppliant  drama  brings  her  cause  to  you. 
Long  has  she  borne  reproach  ;  for,  though  her  brow 
Of  old  was  luminous,  and  burns  e'en  now 
With  heaven's  own  fire,  the  intense  and  hallowed  flame 
That  genius  kindles  round  a  deathless  name, 
We  hear  her  still  denounced  as  virtue's  foe, 
Still  round  her  shrines  is  muttered  many  a  woe, 
Still,  at  her  name  the  superstitious  sigh 
The  grave  look  graver  as  she  passes  by, 
The  bigot's  ban  on  all  her  priesthood  falls 
And  pulpit  thunders  shake  her  temple  walls. 

•*  •*  •*  ##*"•* 

Oh,  were  the  stage  as  pure  as  Dian's  fane 
When  pearled  with  dew  and  washed  with  vernal  rain  ; 
Let  honest  zealots  call  it  Belial's  throne  ; 
Let  pulpits  fulminate — let  presses  groan 
Their  w^oes  and  warnings — and  what  need  they  more 
To  cause  the  curse  they  piously  deplore  ?  ' ' 

If  Mr.  Pierrepont  was  the  author  of  those 
lines,  and  were  now  living,  I  have  no  reason  to 
think  that  he  would  regret  the  transformation  of 
the  old  Hollis  St.  Church,  in  which  he  officiated 
for  many  years,  into  a  theatre,  which  change  has 
been  made  within  a  twelve-month. 

The  curtain  drew  up  on  the  opening  night  to 
a  brilliant  and  crowded  house,  and  from  the  rear 
of  the  stage,  which  represented  a  handsome 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  23 

palace,  William  Rufus  Blake,  in  full  dress,  and 
enveloped  in  the  ample  folds  of  a  rich  black  silk 
toga,  advanced  to  the  front  and  spoke  the  address. 

Mr.  Blake  had  been  for  some  time  before  the 
public.  He  was  a  light  comedian  of  great  ability. 
He  had  a  compact  and  shapely  form,  a  face  of 
manly  beauty,  and  an  irrepressive  hilarity,  which 
combined"  with  a  pleasant  voice  and  graceful 
bearing  made  his  acting  peculiarly  pleasing  in 
genteel  comedy — in  serious  parts  he  was  not  so 
effective;  in  his  later  years  he  was  an  admirable 
representative  of  the  "  old  men  "  of  the  drama, 
and  his  performance  of  "  Bonus,"  "  Kit  Cosey," 
"  Lord  Duberly,"  "  Sir  Peter  Teazle,"  and  the 
like  characters,  was  far  superior  to  his  contem- 
poraries. There  was  a  ripeness,  an  unctuousness, 
so  to  speak,  that  captivated  his  auditors,  and  in 
the  "  old  men,"  he  exercised  the  same  power, 
which  in  his  youth  had  made  his  "  Floriville," 
"Young  Rapid"  and  "Charles  Surface"  the 
delight  of  theatre-goers. 

In  private  Mr.  Blake  was  a  delightful  compan- 
ion. He  was  not  especially  noted  for  prudence 
in  money  matters ;  he  loved  life  and  loved  to  en- 
joy it,  and  loved  to  see  others  enjoy  it.  If  he 
had  been  a  millionaire  he  would  have  spent  his 
income  like  a  prince.  When  he  could  command 
money  he  spent  it  like  a  gentleman,  and,  truth  to 
say,  he  sometimes  spent  it  like  a  gentleman  when 
he  had  none  to  spend  (save  in 


24  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

From  the  first  he  took  a  great  fancy  to  me,  and 
in  after  years  would  pleasantly  recall  the  days 
when  he  first  knew  "  Walter,"  in  Boston.  He 
was  stage  manager  of  the  Walnnt  St.  Theatre 
in  Philadelphia  some  years  later,  when  I  was  at- 
.tached  to  the  company,  and  it  was  his  especial 
delight  to  have  a  Sunday  dinner-party  with  the 
young  actors  around  him,  and  I  was  always  an 
invited  guest.  He  was  full  of  fun,  and  kept  us 
all  in  a  roar  of  merriment.  "  Why  ?"  he  asked 
on  one  occasion,  "  why  do  some  of  these  newspa- 
per fellows  sometimes  say  that  I'm  not  a  good 
actor?  Ask  Charlotte." — This  was  said  with  a 
chuckle,  referring  to  Charlotte  Cushman,  who  had 
been  his  predecessor  in  the  stage  management, 
and  with  whom  his  relations  had  been  almost 
belligerent — "  She  knows  ;  she'll  say  it's  because 
I'm  a  Blue-nose."  He  was  born  in  Halifax,  N. 
S.  "Ask  Walter,  here  ;  he'll  tell  you  what  they 
think  in  Boston.  He'll  tell  you  that  there  I  was 
the  pet  of  the  ladies — the  pride  of  the  Srzs/itoc- 
racy  and  the  idol  of  the  pox  vopuli"  And  then 
came  out  that  merry  laugh,  whose  influence  no 
one  could  resist. 

Mr.  Blake  died  some  years  since,  in  Boston. 
He  was  suddenly  stricken  down,  I  think,  while 
playing  "Sir  Peter  Teazle,"  and  soon  passed 
away.  Looking  back  over  the  changeful  mem- 
ories of  the  past,  among  the  pleasantest  I  find 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  25 

those  of  my  first  stage  manager  and  old  friend, 
William  Rufus  Blake. 

The  poem  spoken,  the  curtain  drew  up  for  the 
play,  which  was  Mrs.  Inchbald's  comedy  of 
"  Wives  as  they  were,  and  Maids  as  they  are." 
Blake  played  "  Bronzley,"  in  his  sparkling  cham- 
pagne-y  manner.  Mr.  Charles  Webb  was  the 
"  Sir  Wm.  Dorrillon  "  of  the  cast.  Mr.  Webb 
was  an  actor  of  great  ability ;  he  had  graduated 
from  the  "  Mortonians,"  a  society  of  juvenile 
amateurs  in  Philadelphia,  of  which  Edwin  For- 
rest was  a  member.  In  the  dignified  gentlemen 
of  Reynolds  and  other  authors  whose  plays  were 
popular  in  the  early  part  of  the  century,  he  ap- 
peared to  great  advantage,  and  equally  so  in  de- 
picting the  "  Tyrants  "  of  the  stage,  but  he  had 
one  failing  which,  strange  to  say,  hardly  lessened 
his  dignity.  Though  sometimes  a  tipsy  gentle- 
man, he  was  never  a  tipsy  boor,  and  he  was  never 
tipsy  excepting  from  the  waist  downwards.  All 
his  inebriety  seemed  to  settle  in  his  extremities. 
The  alcoholic  indulgence  weakened  his  pedal 
props,  but  seemed  to  have  little  effect  upon  his 
brain.  The  pugilistic  demon  of  drink  always 
hit  him  *' below  the  belt,"  and  his  blows  were  em- 
phatically staggering  ones.  It  is  but  justice  to 
say  that  his  periods  of  indiscretion  "were  not  of 
frequent  occurrence  or  long  duration,  and,  like 
many  others,  he  bitterly  lamented  his  want  of 
self-control. 


26  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

"  Sir  George  Evelyn  "  was  played  by  Mr.  Reed. 
I  wonder  if  there  are  any  old  Bostonians  who  re- 
member "  Dan  Reed" — or,  rather,  I  wonder  if 
any  who  ever  saw  him  can  have  forgotten  him. 
I  think  that  is  impossible.  Certainly  those  who 
saw  him  play  "  Gesler  "  to  the  "  William  Tell" 
of  Macready,  in  1826,  will  remember  how  he 
fairly  shared  the  honors  of  the  night  with  the 
"  star."  J.  Mills  Brown  was  the  "  Oliver."  Mr. 
Brown  was  a  low-comedian,  of  infinite  humor; 
his  style  quaint  in  the  extreme,  and  his  appear- 
ance that  of  a  well-fed  parson.  On  his  lugub- 
rious face  a  smile  was  never  or  rarely  seen,  but 
he  made  others  laugh.  Mrs.  Blake  was  the  "Miss 
Dorrillon;"  Mrs.  Charles  Young,  a  very  beautiful 
woman,  the  "Lady  Mary  Raffle,"  and  Mrs.  Pelby 
the  "  Lady  Priory  "  of  the  cast. 

An  especial  feature  of  that  night  was  the  or- 
chestral performance.  The  leader,  Mr.  Ostinelli, 
was  a  brilliant  violinist,  identified  with  musical 
matters  and  universally  respected.  He  had  been 
long  a  resident  of  the  city,  so  long,  indeed,  that 
he  was  continually  talking  of  a  return  to  his 
Italian  home,  for  which  he  always  intended  to 
start  "  next  summer."  But  the  Signer  was  a 
much  better  musician  than  financier,  and  "next 
summer  "  always  found  him  too  impecunious  to 
start.  He  had  married  a  Boston  lady,  and  was 
the  father  of  a  pretty  girl  some  ten  years  old. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  27 

This  young  Miss  afterwards  became  the  famous 
prima  donna,  Blisa  Biscaccianti,  of  world-wide 
fame.  If  one  could  have  forecast  the  horoscope 
of  little  Eliza  Ostinelli  sixty  years  ago,  what  a 
revelation  it  would  have  been.  The  heighth  of 
prosperity — the  depth  of  want.  Crowds  of  flat- 
terers at  one  time,  at  another  neglect  and  deser- 
tion. Diamonds  to-day — squalor  and  poverty  to- 
morrow. Singing  now  in  the  brilliant  opera 
house — anon  in  the  wretched  dive.  At  one  time 
plodding  her  weary  way  homeward  to  a  miserable 
domicile,  endeavoring  to  forget  plaudits  that  were 
painful,  in  the  remembrance  of  what  had  greeted 
her  ears  in  brighter  days ;  and  soon  thereafter, 
again  listening  to  the  ringing  u  Bravos  "  of  the 
crowded  theatre,  from  which  she  is  drawn  to  her 
hotel  in  a  chariot  by  her  worshippers,  who  have 
detached  the  horses  and  taken  their  place.  Truly, 
life  is  but  a  kaleidescope,  and  varies  with  every 
turn. 

Mr.  Ostinelli  had  gathered  an  orchestral  force 
of  great  merit.  Among  its  members  was  Mr. 
James  Kendall,  who,  with  his  brother,  Edward 
Kendall,  ranked  high  as  instrumental  musicians. 
Edward  Kendall's  playing  on  the  key-bugle,  an 
instrument  which  has  been  superseded  by  the 
cornet,  was  almost  marvelous.  Doubtless,  many 
of  my  readers  can  recall  Ned  Kendall's  perform- 
ance of  u  Wood  Up,"  on  the  key-bugle.  It  rings 


28  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

in  my  ears  now.  Both  the  Kendalls  could  play 
on  almost  any  instrument.  James  began  as  a 
drummer  boy  in  the  war  of  1812.  His  orches- 
tral instrument  in  the  "  Tremont  "  was  the  clar- 
ionette,  and  I  here  remember  an  occurrence  which 
affords  a  fair  example  of  his  character.  I  have 
spoken  of  Miss  Lydia  Kelly  as  one  of  the  popu- 
lar stars  of  that  era.  She  was  a  handsome  wo- 
man, with  a  brilliant  style,  and  was  almost  the 
only  actress  who  affected  high  comedy  exclusive- 
ly. She  sang  well,  and  in  "  Lady  Teazle,"  u  Bea- 
trice" and  "Letitia  Hardy  "  always  introduced 
songs.  Her  temper  was  somewhat  hasty,  and 
her  manner  imperious.  While  rehearsing  "  Bid 
me  discourse,"  with  the  full  orchestra  one  morn- 
ing, the  accompaniments  seemed  to  be  all  wrong, 
and  the  song  was  tried  over  again  and  again 
without  improvement.  Miss  Kelly  blamed  the 
orchestra,  and  the  leader  blamed  the  copyist. 
Miss  Kelly  singled  out  Kendall  as  the  chief  de- 
linquent, and  he,  in  the  coolest  and  most  gentle- 
manly manner,  assured  her  that  he  was  playing 
the  score  exactly  as  it  was  written,  and  handed 
the  notes  over  the  footlights  for  her  inspection. 
Stamping  her  foot  and  losing  all  self-control, 
Miss  Kelly  kicked  out  angrily  at  Kendall,  and, 
barely  missing  his  head,  struck  the  notes  from 
his  hand  with  the  act.  There  was  for  a  moment 
the  silence  of  amazement  when  Kendall,  address- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  29 

ing  the  leader  said  :  "  Mr.  Ostinelli,  the  lady  for- 
gets herself.  I  think,  on  reflection,  she  will  apol- 
ogize for  what  she  has  done  " — or  words  to  that 
effect ;  I  do  not  remember  the  precise  terms. 
There  was  another  momentary  pause,  when  the 
lady,  extending  her  hand,  said  :  "  Mr.  Kendall 
is  right;  I  was  hasty;  I  ask  his  pardon."  The 
cloud  was  instantly  dispelled.  The  song  was 
tried  again  and  the  orchestral  parts  were  all 
right. 

Mr.  Kendall  was  a  man  of  rugged  nature,  yet 
kindly  feelings ;  of  simple  tastes,  with  a  rough 
exterior,  but  a  warm  and  generous  heart.  He 
knew  not  how  to  u  crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of 
the  knee,"  but  had  the  honesty  to  speak  the 
truth  before  God  and  man,  and  the  courage  and 
manliness  in  its  championship  to  look  either 
friend  or  foeman  full  in  the  eye.  His  early 
youth  was  passed  in  a  continual  struggle  with 
obstacles  which  not  one  lad  in  a  thousand  would 
have  surmounted ;  but  his  mature  manhood  was 
rewarded  by  the  respect  of  his  fellow-men  and 
professional  brethren,  who  recognized  in  him  an 
upright  citizen — a  true  artist — an  honest  man  ! 
Death  had  no  terrors  for  James  Kendall.  Had 
the  great  destroyer  hovered  o'er  his  lingering 
couch  and  delayed  the  winging  of  the  shaft,  or 
had  wearisome  disease  preceded  the  inevitable 
end,  he  would  have  had  the  patience  to  wait  and 


30  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

the  courage  to  endure ;  but  Death  came  to  him 
as  he  comes  to  the  warrior  on  the  battle-field,  and 
struck  him  down  in  harness.  He  had  been  a 
resident  of  San  Francisco  for  many  years,  and 
was  attached  to  the  orchestra  of  the  California 
Theatre  at  the  time  of  his  decease,  which 
occurred  in  the  Spring  of  1875.  He  went  to 
the  theatre  as  usual  for  the  performance  of  his 
duties,  entered  the  music  room,  divested  himself 
of  his  hat  and  coat,  and  saying  "  Good  evening, 
gentlemen,"  to  his  companions,  wheeled  about 
and  fell  to  the  floor  a  corpse.  He  spent  the 
Christmas  Day  prior  to  his  death  in  a  social 
manner  with  the  family  of  the  writer,  for  we 
were  old  friends.  Our  after-dinner  conversation 
drifted  to  the  subject  of  Spiritualism.  He  had 
been  reading  much  upon  the  subject;  was  in- 
clined to  doubt,  inclined  to  believe,  but  resolved 
to  investigate.  The  possibility  of  our  deceased 
friends  returning  in  spirit  after  death,  seemed  to 
him  a  gracious  and  consolatory  idea,  and  he  said 
to  me:  "Walter,  old  fellow,  we  are  both  old,  and 
know  not  how  soon  the  summons  may  come ; 
but  if  the  doctrine  is  true — it  may  be,  I  almost 
think  it  is — if  I  am  called  first,  and  am  per- 
mitted to  come  to  you,  I  will  come !"  He  never 
came. 

One  of  the  members  of  the  company  was  a 
little  beetle-browed  gentleman,  of  short  stature 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  31 

and  very  sallow  complexion,  named  Frithey;  he 
was  a  capital  actor  of  short  parts,  but  a  part  of 
any  length  was  beyond  his  depth.  Mr.  Hyatt, 
from  the  u  Bowery  Theatre,"  joined  the  company 
shortly  after  the  opening  as  first  low  comedian, 
Mr.  Frithey  holding  place  as  second.  When 
Hyatt's  benefit  came  off,  the  announcement  of 
Shakespeare's  Richard  III,  with  Hyatt  and 
Frithey  as  the  heroes  of  the  fifth  act,  drew  a 
merry  crowd.  They  fought  on  horseback,  and 
Hyatt  announced  in  his  programme  that  he 
would  make  his  final  exit,  after  a  desperate  con- 
flict with  Richmond,  by  a  peculiar  and  novel 
method  never  before  seen  upon  the  stage.  I 
don't  think  it  had  been  seen  before,  though  the 
gag,  as  it  is  called,  has  often  been  seen  since. 
Hyatt  simply  made  his  exit  through  the  bowels 
of  the  basket  horse  on  which  he  sat,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  beneath. 

On  another  benefit  occasion,  Hyatt  announced 
a  grand  balloon  ascension  from  the  stage  to  the 
dome,  by  a  young  lady,  who  would  dispense  a 
package  of  lottery  tickets.  I  think  he  caught 
the  idea  from  hearing  me  recount  the  misadven- 
ture of  my  feline  equestrienne  in  the  juvenile 
theatre,  but  he  changed  my  heroine's  name,  and 
called  his  feline  aeronaut  Mile.  Scratchini  Pussi- 
ano.  Mademoiselle  went  up  in  good  order  as 
announced,  but  instead  of  scattering  the  lottery 


32  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

tickets,  in  her  fright  broke  away  from  her  bonds 
and  tumbled  out  of  the  balloon  into  the  pit. 

Little  Frithey  was  exceedingly  absent-minded, 
very  slow  in  movement,  and  had  a  kind  of  fatal- 
ity of  being  always  too  late,  or  behind  time. 
There  was  a  system  of  forfeits  or  fines  for  delin- 
quency or  carelessness  at  that  time  in  vogue — 
it  is  not  altogether  abandoned  now. 

Some  of  the  articles  of  this  code  of  fines  and 
forfeitures  were  unjust,  and  some  were  ridiculous. 
The  strict  letter  of  this  old  traditionary,  "  behind- 
the-scenes"  law  was  rarely  enforced,  for  the  good 
sense  of  the  management  recognized  the  impolicy 
of  its  enforcement ;  but  it  seemed  to  be  poor 
Frithey's  ill  luck  to  be  continually  stumbling  over 
every  forbidden  thing.  He  would  doze  in  the 
green-room  and  be  too  late  for  the  stage  ;  he 
would  wake  up  from  his  nap — he  was  an  awful 
sleepy  man — rush  out  in  a  hurry  and  be  too 
soon ;  he  would  enter  at  the  wrong  entrance,  or 
from  the  wrong  side,  and  make  his  exit  in  the 
extreme  rear  of  the  stage,  when  he  should  go  off 
in  front  —  not  from  any  desire  to  be  indifferent 
or  willfully  wrong,  but  from  a  dreamy  uncon- 
sciousness that  he  was  not  right.  He  had  been 
warned  and  fined,  and  the  fine  remitted  several 
times,  until  the  manager's  patience  had  become 
exhausted. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  33 

I  was  in  the  office  on  a  u  salary  day,"  wlien 
Mr.  Frithey  came  in  to  receive  his  weekly  wages, 
and  Mr.  Pelby,  in  a  tone  of  indifference,  addressed 
him  with  "  Mr.  Frithey,  you  have  no  money  to 
receive  to-day,  you  have  forfeited  your  whole 
salary  and  three  dollars  over,  thirteen  dollars  in 
all.  I'll  take  the  ten  to-day  and  the  balance  next 
week.  The  prompter's  forfeit  book  here  has 
got  eleven  '  stage-waits '  marked  against  you." 
Frithey  uttered  no  word  of  complaint  or  remon- 
strance, and  walked  out  as  slowly  as  he  had 
entered.  It  is  but  justice  to  say  that  the  manager 
did  not  keep  the  money,  but  neither  the  re- 
mittance of  the  fine,  or  the  warning  given,  or  the 
levying  of  subsequent  fines  had  much  effect  on 
the  little,  sleepy,  absent-minded  comedian. 

The  office  of  prompter  was  filled  by  a  tall 
Hibernian,  Mr.  Henry  Doyne.  He  was  engaged 
as  an  actor,  but  consented  to  officiate  as  prompter 
until  the  management  could  negotiate  with 
another  party  for  the  position.  He  was  not  an 
amiable  man,  his  features  were  somewhat  un- 
pleasant, his  manner  brusque  almost  to  rudeness  ; 
he  was  my  immediate  principal,  and  soon  I  began 
to*  learn  that  the  realm  in  the  rear  of  the  curtain 
was  not  altogether  a  "  land  of  tranquil  delights." 

I  hardly  dared  at  that  time  to  press  my  suit  as 
an  aspirant  either  to  Mr.  Pelby  or  Mr.  Blake ; 
but  Doyne  knowing  my  ambition,  laughed  at  me, 


34  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  could  plainly  see  that.  "  And  so,  my  boy,"  he 
would  say,  "  you  want  to  act ;  well,  I'll  fix  it  for 
you,  don't  bother  Mr.  Blake ;  I'll  get  him  to  cast 
you  for  a  good  part  —  leave  it  all  to  me."  I 
think  that  the  two  or  three  month's  experience  of 
the  theatre  had  not  been  without  effect,  for  I  felt 
more  of  the  man  within  me,  and  realized  more 
and  more  each  day — the  fact  which  only  hard  ex- 
perience can  teach  a  stage-struck  youth — that  of 
all  professions  that  of  the  stage  is  emphatically 
one  for  work  ;  that  work  I  wanted  to  begin.  So 
when  Doyne  one  morning  told  me,  as  I  prepared 
the  prompter's  table  for  rehearsal,  to  go  into  the 
green-roQin  and  look  into  the  cast-case.  I  ran 
well  pleased,  as  directed,  and  saw — yes,  absolutely 
saw  my  name  in  the  handwriting  of  the  stage 
manager,  in  the  cast  of  a  play.  Yes,  there  it 
was,  in  the  list  of  names  appended  to  the  list  of 
characters  that  make  up  the  u  dramatis  personae  " 
of  Shakespeare's  "  Catherine  and  Petruchio,"  to 
be  sure  it  was  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  list — Mr. 
Pelby's  was  at  the  top — and  opposite  Petruchio— 
mine  at  the  tail  end  opposite  what  ?  —  Nicholas. 
Now,  I  had  read  the  "  Taming  of  the  Shrew," 
and  seen  it  acted,  but  I  didn't  remember  any 
"  Nicholas"  Doyne  was  on  the  watch,  and  met 
me  with  a  grin.  "  Well,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  I 
told  you  I'd  fix  it  for  you,  and  I've  done  it." 
"  What  is  the  character,"  said  I.  "  Oh  !  a  foine 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  35 

one,  get  the  book  and  study  it  up."  "  Is  it  long," 
I  asked.  "  Not  very,"  he  replied  with  another 
grin.  "  I  don't  remember  any  such  part,"  said 
I.  "  Oh  !  "  said  Doyne,  grinning  again  ;  "  you 
havn't  much  to  say,"  its  principally  business ; 
"  wait  until  rehearsal,"  with  a  still  broader  grin, 
"  you'll  see."  Rehearsal  was  called  for  the  next 
morning  ;  in  the  interim  I  had  re-read  the  play, 
but  could  find  no  u  Nicholas."  The  rehearsal 
progressed  as  far  as  the  scene  in  which  Petruchio 
brings  home  his  shrewish  bride,  and  to  outshrew 
her,  administers  his  first  lesson  by  whipping  and 
beating  his  affrighted  servants  around  the  stage 
when  they  come  at  his  angry  command  to  bring 
in  his  dinner  and  take  oif  his  boots  ;  while  the 
scared  wife  stands  trembling  at  the  violence  of  a 
temper  worse  than  her  own.  Doyne  here  shouted 
out  to  the  property  man  to  u  bring  the  wash-bowl 
for  Mr.  Leman,"  and  Mr.  Lemaii  found  out  that 
the  important  character  which  Mr.  Doyne  had 
persuaded  Mr.  Blake  to  cast  him  for,  was  one  of 
the  mob  of  menials  which  Petruchio  whips  around 
the  stage  —  not  a  word  to  say,  but  to  come  on 
when  shouted  for  by  the  angry  Petruchio  —  with 
a  basin  full  of  water,  tumble  over  his  master's 
legs,  breaking  the  basin  with  a  sprawl,  and  run 
off  with  a  howl  to  avoid  the  angry  thwacks  and 
blows  which  fall  impartially  on  all  around. 
Doyne  was  right,  there  wasn't  much  to  say, 


36  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

there  wasn't  anything  to  say — it  was  all  business, 
and  howling,  any  amount  of  that  was  in  order. 
The  howling  was  to  be  done  by  Nicholas  and  his 
fellow  victims,  and  the  more  Mr.  Pelby  whipped , 
and  the  more  Mr.  Leman  and  the  other  fellows 
howled,  the  more  the  heartless  wretches  in  the 
pit  and  gallery  would  be  sure  to  howl  and  laugh. 
Mr.  Doyne  had  certainly  kept  his  word ;  my 
"  first  appearance  "  was  assured.  I  never  said  a 
word  to  my  friends  outside,  anticipating  their 
surprise  when  they  should  see  my  name  in  the 
posters,  but  it  wasn't  there.  I  consoled  myself 
with  the  belief  that  it  would  certainly  be  in  the 
smaller  bills — the  programmes  for  the  evening— 
and  there  it  was,  away  down  at  the  bottom,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  was  there  —  "  Nicholas,  Mr.  Leman." 
I  played  that  part,  and  believe  I  played  it  well. 
I  entered  with  alacrity,  tumbled  over  Pelby's  legs 
with  agility,  smashed  the  wash-bowl  into  frag- 
ments, and  made  my  exit  amid  the  noisy  merri- 
ment of  boxes,  gallery  and  pit.  I  ought  to  have 
been  satisfied,  for  if  applause  is  any  criterion, 
my  debut  was  a  success. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Augustus  A.  Addams  —  Wallack  —  Pizarro — The  Precocious 
Infant — Cooper — Mons.  Barbierre — Madam  Hutin — Mile. 
Celeste — My  Second  Part — Mr.  Ostinelli — Isherwood — 
Mr.  Hardy — Fun  in  the  Paint-room — Mr.  Francis  W.  Dana 
— Juiiius  Brutus  Booth. 

AMONG  the  celebrities  whom  I  first  knew  in 
my  new  sphere  of  life,  was  a  gentleman 
who  had  every  element,  physical  and  intellectual, 
to  place  him  in  the  very  highest  niche  of  theatric 
fame,  Angnstus  A.  Addams.  In  stature  he  ex- 
celled Forrest,  and  was  not  unlike  him  in  manner 
and  method.  He  died  young,  otherwise  I  think 
Mr.  Forrest  would  have  found  in  him  a  dan- 
gerous rival.  I  also  met  for  the  first  time  an 
actor  whose  popularity  in  America  was  second 
to  that  of  no  one  who  had  preceded  him ;  who 
during  a  long  career  as  actor  and  manager  never 
lost  his  hold  on  the  public,  or  did  aught  to  wound 
the  feelings  of  any,  even  the  most  humble,  of  his 
own  profession.  The  man  whom  Mr.  Murdoch 
justly,  I  think,  calls  the  "  first  romantic  actor  of 


38  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

America."  In  form  and  feature,  it  is  not  exag- 
geration to  say,  that  lie  was  "  express  and 
admirable ;"  and  excellent  as  he  was  in  a  cer- 
tain line  of  characters — "  David  Duvigne,"  in 
"The  Hazard  of  the  Die;"  "Walter,"  in  the 
"Children  in  the  Wood;"  "  Mazzaroni,"  in  the 
"  Brigand,",  and  the  like — when  the  spectator 
saw  him  in  "  Coriolanus,"  or  "  Benedick,"  he 
recognized  his  just  claim  to  rank  as  a  Shakes- 
pearean actor,  no  less  than  as  the  representative 
of  a  drama,  which  his  peculiar  talent  had  made 
all  his  own.  When  a  mere  boy,  he  became  the 
protege  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  and  was 
engaged  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre ;  and  at 
eighteen  he  acted  "Laertes"  to  Elliston's  "Hamlet" 
and  played  seconds  to  Edmund  Kean  in  the 
whole  range  of  that  gentleman's  characters — an 
evidence  of  his  marked  ability  at  the  early  age 
of  twenty-two  years. 

I  think  Mr.  Wallack's  first  visit  to  America 
was  in  1817  or  '18.  He  had  crossed  the  ocean 
some  three  or  four  times  when  I  first  met  him, 
and  subsequently  his  trips  ran  up  into  the 
twenties.  I  remember  one  night  in  the  green- 
room his  taking  off  an  old  sou'-wester,  which  he 
wore  in  the  character  of  "  Michael "  in  the 
"  Adopted  Child  "  (what  old  play-goer  that  ever 
saw  James  Wallack  play  "  Michael "  can  ever 
forget  it?)  and  telling  us  how  much  he  prized 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  39 

it  because  it  was  given  him  by  an  Old  Salt  with 
whom  he  had  sailed  six  times  over  the  sea. 

Mr.  Wallack  was  certainly  as  well  known  to 
the  whole  American  theatre-going  public  sixty 
years  ago  as  Cooper  himself,  and  was  a  more 
general  favorite.  He  invariably  opened  as 
"Rolla"  and  "Dick  Dashall."  In  1852,  he 
became  the  manager  of  Wallack's  Theatre,  in 
New  York  city.  During  the  first  half  of  my 
theatrical  career,  Mr.  Wallack  played  repeatedly 
in  different  cities  of  the  Union,  where  I  had  the 
pleasure  to  play  with  him.  It  was  always  a 
pleasure  for  a  young  actor  to  play  with  James 
W.  Wallack,  for  with  him  he  was  sure  of  kind- 
ness-, courtesy,  encouragement,  good  advice, 
approbation,  if  merited.  He  did  not  deem  it 
necessary,  like  some  of  his  contemporaries,  to 
emphasize  his  stage  directions  with  language 
proscribed  in  the  decalogue,  and  was  always 
mindful  of  the  actor's  feelings,  whether  his 
salary  rated  high  or  low.  Mr.  Wallack's  versa- 
tility was  remarkable ;  his  range  of  characters 
equalling  that  of  John  Hodgkinson,  so  well 
known  in  the  earlier  years  of  the  present  cen- 
tury. Indeed,  from  what  I  have  read  of  that 
brilliant  actor,  I  think  that  Hodgkinson  and 
James  Wallack,  Senior,  were  not  unlike. 

An  incident  apropos  of  Mr.  Wallack's  "  Rolla," 
during  that  engagement  may  be  noted :  The 


40  .  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

lighting  department  of  the  theatre  was  under  the 
superintendence  of  an  old  Scotchman  named  Mil- 
ler (it  was  before  the  era  of  gas).  Miller  lived 
in  the  basement  of  the  theatre  and  had  two  or 
three  boys,  the  eldest  of  whom  used  to  assist  his 
father  in  the  lamp-room  while  the  youngest  ran 
about  among  the  oil  and  dirt.  The  family  ran 
wild.  There  was  no  mother  to  guide  and  guard, 
and  the  father  had  little  control.  On  the  evening 
of  which  I  speak,  the  representative  of  "Alonzo's 
Child  "  had  been  taken  sick  during  the  perform- 
ance, and  a  substitute  had  to  be  procured  for  the 
last  act,  where  the  child  is  very  important.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  The  time  was  short,  and  a  child 
must  be  had  for  the  last  scene.  Miller's  young- 
est was  thought  of,  and  from  beneath  the  stage 
he  wras  unwillingly  brought  up  and  a  dress  hur- 
ried upon  him.  This  youngest  of  the  Miller 
tribe  was  an  ill-looking  boy  of  about  two  and  a 
half  years.  He  was  small,  even  for  that  age,  but 
could  talk  quite  plainly.  Alonzo's  child  has 
been  captured  by  Pizarro,  who  intends  to  hold 
him  as  a  hostage  for  his  father.  Rolla  pleads  in 
vain  for  his  release,  which  being  refused,  he  seizes 
the  child,  desperately  strikes,  down  the  weapons 
of  the  guard,  and,  with  the  exclamation,  "  Who 
dares  to  follow,  dies !  "  rushes  over  the  bridge 
which  spans  a  mountain  torrent,  saving  the  child 
at  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  life. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  41 

Mr.  Wallack  rescued  the  boy  and  rushed  upon 
the  bridge.  When  in  the  center,  with  the  child 
held  high  with  one  hand,  while,  sword  in  hand, 
he  turned  for  a  moment  to  defy  his  pursuers,  and 
the  house  rang  with  plaudits  for  the  exciting  and 
heroic  picture,  suddenly  and  moodily  from  the 
squeaking  lips  of  the  cherub  he  held  aloft,  came 
forth — "  D-d-d — 11  your  eyes  ;  don't  you  let  me 
fall !  "  Mr.  Wallack  got  over  the  bridge,  some- 
how, restored  the  precocious  and  interesting  babe 
to  the  arms  of  its  mother,  and  the  curtain  fell. 
Mr.  W.  declared  himself  so  shocked  at  the  awful 
profanity  of  the  two-year-old  ruffian  that  he  came 
near  letting  him  fall,  and  was  with  difficulty  able 
to  finish  the  performance. 

That  eventful  first  year  of  my  theatrical  life 
has  for  another  of  its  memories,  one  whose  name 
was  as  familiar  as  "  household  words  "  through- 
out all  the  land.  Thomas  Apthorpe  Cooper  was 
for  a  time  the  most  distinguished  actor  on  the 
American  stage.  It  used  to  be  a  point  of  pride 
with  an  American  to  swear  by  Tom  Cooper,  as 
in  later  years  he  swore  by  Ned  Forrest ;  and, 
without  doubt,  Mr.  Cooper,  in  his  prime,  was  a 
man  to  swear  by.  One  critic  tells  us  that  "  his 
face  was  expressive  at  his  will  of  the  deepest  ter- 
ror or  the  most  exalted  complacency — the  direst 
revenge  or  the  softest  pity.  His  form  in  anger 
was  that  of  a  demon  ;  his  smile  in  affability  that 


42  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  an  angel."  This  is  the  language  of  hyper- 
bole ;  but  Mr.  Cooper  did  not  always  sip  from  the 
honeyed  cup.  Many,  even  of  his  admirers,  ack- 
nowledged that,  while  he  exceeded  in  personal 
requisites  every  actor  that  had  hitherto  appeared 
on  the  American  boards;  while  his  voice  could 
not  be  surpassed  in  sweetness  and  flexibility;  his 
figure  in  beauty  of  proportions ;  his  action  in 
ease  and  grace,  or  his  countenance  in  tragic  ex- 
pression ;  yet,  in  the  niceties  of  reading  and  em- 
bodying the  great  characters  of  Shakespeare,  he 
was  not  equal  to  some  of  his  contemporaries. 

I  was  but  a  boy  when  I  first  saw  Thomas 
Cooper,  two  years  before  the  time  of  which  I 
write.  He  was  but  fifty  years  of  age  then,  being 
born  in  1776.  I  don't  pretend  to  think  that  I 
had  any  critical  judgment,  but  to  me  he  appeared 
a  god.  I  saw  Macready  afterwards,  while  still 
but  a  boy  ;  he  did  not  shake  Cooper's  throne.  I 
never  saw  Cooke  or  Kean  the  elder.  I  have  seen 
scores  of  tragedians  in  two  generations  since 
I  passed  the  limit  of  boyhood,  and  among 
them  —  with  one  exception,  of  whom  I  shall 
by  and  by  speak — I  do  not  think  any  one 
impressed  me  more  than  when  I  first  saw  him— 
did  Mr.  Cooper.  But  Mr.  Cooper  had  lived  very 
fast,  was  living  fast,  and  when  he  "  turned  the 
hill  he  found  that  'twas  rapid  going  down."  For 
thirty  years  he  had  been  Fortune's  favored  child, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  43 

the  very  "  foremost  plume  o'  the  van,"  but  For- 
tune is  fickle,  and  his  star  had  begun  to  wane, 
while  Forrest's  was  climbing  up  the  sky.  He 
had  just  returned  from  England,  where  he  had 
been  damn'd  at  Drury  Lane.  It  is  a  question 
whether  the  verdict  there  pronounced  was  just. 
An  Englishman  born,  by  adoption  he  was  an 
American  ;  all  of  his  triumphs  had  been  won  in 
America,  and  they  had  not  forgotten  that  he 
coaxed  Cooke  away,  and  was  a  supposed  enemy 
of  Edmund  Kean.  In  the  practice  of  his  pro- 
fession he  had  received  large  sums  of  money, 
and  had  spent  them  with  reckless  prodigality. 
Broadway  could  show  no  more  beautiful  turn-out 
than  his,  and  taste  and  fashion  had  courted  his 
society  in  the  zenith  of  his  popularity ;  but  the 
evil  hour  was  coming — had  come ;  his  sceptre 
was  rapidly  passing  away. 

My  humble  position  in  the  theatre  forbade  any- 
thing like  familiarity  with  the  great  man,  but  as 
a  subordinate  I  had  to  call  him  from  his  room 
during  the  performance  (he  never  deigned  to  en- 
ter the  green-room)  to  attend  at  rehearsal,  and 
do  many  things  that  gave  me  opportunity  for 
close  observation,  and  I  could  see  that  he  was  a 
dissatisfied  and  disappointed  man.  Mr.  Cooper 
was  never  much  noted  for  suavity  of  deportment 
in  his  intercourse  with  professional  associates — 
rather  the  reverse — but  I  saw  no  display  of  that 


44  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

top-lofty  temper  which  always  frightened  a  large 
number  of  those  who  played  with  Tom  Cooper, 
for  his  methods  of  stage  direction  had  been  en- 
tirely different  from  those  of  Mr.  Wallack.  But 
at  that  time  he  was  certainly  a  subdued  man,  for 
no  actor  suffered  immolation  at  his  hands.  A 
volume  might  be  filled  with  anecdotes  of  Mr. 
Cooper.  In  his  hey-day  his  reckless  waste  of 
money  was  proverbial.  He  would  gallop  a  mag- 
got, or  cut  a  card,  or  make  any,  the  most  absurd 
wager  for  almost  any  amount.  Standing  one 
day  in  Broadway  with  an  acquaintance,  he  ob- 
served a  load  of  hay  coming  up  the  street.  "  I'll 
bet  you,"  said  Cooper,  u  the  receipts  of  my  bene- 
fit to-night,  against  an  equal  amount,  that  I  can 
pull  the  longest  wisp  of  hay  from  this  load."- 
"  Done,"  said  the  gentleman.  The  straws  were 
pulled  and  Cooper  lost.  He  said,  with  great  non- 
chalance, "  I've  lost  two  hours'  work."  The 
short  wisp  of  hay  cost  him  $1,100.  He  had  a 
numerous  and  interesting  family  of  children. 
When  young  he  would  never  allow  them  to  cry. 
His  method  of  cure  was  to  dash  a  glass  of  water 
in  their  face  ;  astonishment  would  cause  them  to 
stop.  If  they  began  again  he'd  dash  another, 
and  continue  the  dose  until  they  stopped  finally. 
It  was  certainly  a  stringent  adaptation  of  the 
cold-water  cure.  One  morning,  by  the  manager's 
order,  I  accompanied  Mr.  Cooper  to  his  hotel  for 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  45 

a  parcel  to  be  taken  to  the  theatre.  It  was  a 
rainy  day,  and  as  we  walked  down  School  street 
the  intermittent  showers  recommenced  with  vio- 
lence. I  raised  my  umbrella  over  Mr.  Cooper's 
head,  but  he  pushed  it  aside  with,  "  Put  it  away, 
young  man ;  put  it  down,  sir.  I  never  carried 
one  of  those  things  ;  I  don't  want  it."  I  did  as 
directed,  and  being  ashamed  to  hold  the  umbrella 
over  my  own  head  while  his  was  unprotected,  I 
closed  it  up  and  we  walked  side  by  side  slowly 
down  the  street  in  a  pouring  rain.  Everbody 
knew  Mr.  Cooper,  and  wondered  why  that  young 
man  didn't  hold  the  umbrella  over  his  head.  Mr. 
Cooper  died  in  1849. 

Another  of  the  notable  memories  of  my  first 
year,  was  the  appearance  of  the  "  French 
Dancers,"  Mons.  Barbierre,  Madame  Hutin,  and 
Mile.  Celeste.  This  trio  were  the  first  artistes 
of  the  French  Ballet  who  appeared  in  Boston, 
and  a  doubt  was  entertained  whether  the  pro- 
nounced style  popular  in  Paris  would  be  ap- 
proved. They  had  made  a  triumphant  success 
in  New  York,  to  be  sure,  but  Boston  claimed  to 
be,  if  not  more  virtuous,  more  circumspect  than 
New  York,  and  would  the  Boston  ladies  go  to 
see  them — would  they  take  the  risk  of  being 
shocked  ?  that  was  the  question.  The  house 
was  crowded  on  the  first  night,  and  among  the 
audience  there  was  not  more  than  fifteen  or 


46  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

twenty  of  the  softer  sex ;  but  the  question  was 
answered  entirely  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  man- 
ager, and  during  the  balance  of  the  engagement 
the  auditorium  was  packed,  and  the  boxes  were 
almost  monopolized  by  ladies. 

Monsieur  Barbierre  afterwards  became  a 
teacher  of  dancing,  and  settled  in  Memphis, 
Tennessee ;  Madame  Hutin  faded  from  public 
view ;  but  Celeste  achieved  fame.  She  aban- 
doned the  ballet  and  shortly  after  married  Mr. 
Henry  Elliot,  a  New  York  gentleman  of  extrav- 
agant tastes,  who  evinced  great  shrewdness  in 
managing  her  professional  affairs,  and  spent  her 
money  faster  than  she  could  earn  it. 

Mr.  E.  collected  together  a  number  of  hybrid 
dramas,  the  names  of  two  or  three  I  remember — 
I  think  I  played  in  all  of  them,  "  The  Fall  of 
Derna,"  the  "  Wizard  Skiff,"  the  "  Spirit  Bride," 
etc.,  and  made  Celeste  the  central  figure  in  each. 
No  man  better  knew  how  to  pull  the  wires, 
before  or  behind  the  curtain,  and  by  adroit  gen- 
eralship and  Celeste's  dash  and  undoubted  talent 
she  became  perhaps  the  most  profitable  star  of 
her  day.  With  the  "French  Spy"  alone,  I 
heard  her  say,  she  had  made  $100,000,  and  this 
long  before  its  attractiveness  had  ceased. 

But  no  amount  of  income  could  stand  the 
drain  of  the  bon-vivant  who  would  sit  in  the 
green-room  and  recall  with  self-gratulation  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  47 

names  of  scores  of  gentlemen  with  each  of 
whom  .he  had  drank,  at  the  least,  u  a  thousand 
bottles  of  champagne."  The  lady  and  gentle- 
man parted,  and  Madame  went  to  London,  where 
she  soon  achieved  eminence.  Celeste's  acting 
in  the  "  Green  Bushes,"  the  "  Flowers  of  the 
Forest,"  and  the  "  Wept  of  the  Wish-ton-Wish," 
was  the  pure  poetry  of  pantomime.  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  playing  with  Celeste  during  her  last 
visit  to  America.  She  died  some  years  since, 
the  precise  date  is  not  remembered. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  "  sharp  commentary" 
which  the  critics  of  half  a  century  ago  could 
occasionally  indulge  in,  I  append  a  part  of  a 
newspaper  notice  of  one  of  Celeste's  perform- 
ances. It  is  headed :  "  Humbug  and  its  Pre- 
monitory." "Get  up,  Billy,  and  Chalk  the 
Rope."  "  Premonitory  is  the  Humbug's  Avant 
Courier ;  as  Crows,  Vultures  and  Ravens  hover 
over  an  Army  before  a  Battle,  so  is  Premonitory 
the  Inevitable  Precursor  of  an  *  Engagement}  ' 

H:  #  *  #  :j:  #  £ 

"  A  roll  of  drums,  a  flourish  of  trumpets  enter 
Humbug,  attended  by  interpreters.  It  swings 
round  to  this  wing,  then  to  that,  points  to  the 
ground,  points  to  the  skies,  or  where  the  skies 
are  represented  by  the  flies,  stamps,  cocks  its 
head  like  a  listening  rooster,  puts  its  hand  to  its 
mouth,  stamps  again,  puts  both  hands  to  its  head, 


48  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

puts  both  hands  to  its  sides,  and  then  stops,  and 
so  does  the  music,  which,  all  along,  you  are  to 
recollect,  is  appropriate.  Then  while  it  takes 
breath,  one  of  the  interpreters  explains  that  it 
meant  something,  and,  astonished  at  the  ingenious 
translation  of  what  no  one  ever  guessed  meant 
anything,  applause  follows  to  the  echo,  enthusi- 
astically started  by  the  heavy  cane  of  the  pre- 
monitory—  the  interpreters  smother  a  laugh. 
The  music  strikes  up,  and  the  gymnastics  begin 
again.  What's  the  use  of  talking  ?  Melpomene 
talks,  Thalia  talks,  the  learned  pig  can't  talk, 
Dandy  Jack  can't  talk,  then  what's  the  use  of 
talking?  Talking  is  nonsense,  as  is  proved  by 
what  Humbug's  interpreters  said,  vive  la  bagatelle! 
Twenty  to  one  on  a  match  against  common  sense 
and  private  purses,  to  come  off  any  time  between 
the  rising  of  the  curtain  and  the  shutting  off  of 
the  gas."  That  is  what  I  believe  newspaper  men 
call  a  "  first-rate  notice." 

My  immediate  principal,  Paddy  Doyne,  as  he 
was  called  in  the  theatre,  was  relieved  of  the 
duties  of  prompter,  and  Mr.  Hardy,  an  assistant 
in  the  paint-room,  had  been  installed  as  his  suc- 
cessor. I  had  been  observant,  and  was  rapidly 
picking  up  a  knowledge  of  stage  business,  and 
the  details  connected  with  the  representation  of 
the  drama  —  indeed  both  Doyne  and  Hardy  often 
gave  me  the  prompt-book,  and  trusted  me  to 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  49 

"  run  the  stage  "  for  an  evening,  and  the  mana- 
ger and  stage  manager  seemed  pleased  and  satis- 
fied—  bnt  I  was  not  satisfied.  I  still  wanted  to 
act,  and  pretty  soon  I  had  another  chance,  and 
here,  as  before,  Doyne  took  the  initiative.  He 
was  very  fond  of  playing  Dr.  O'Toole,  in  the 
farce  of  the  u  Irish  Tutor,"  and  one  day,  taking  me 
patronizingly  apart,  be  began  -  '  Walter,  my 
boy,  I  am  going  to  ask  Mr.  Blake  to  cast  my 
farce," — he  always  called  it  his  farce,  for  he  said 
no  living  man  knew  how  to  play  Dr.  O'Toole  ex- 
cepting himself — "and  by  the  powers  I've  a  great 
mind  to  give  ye  a  foine  part  in  it,  d'ye  moind 
what  it  is  ?  have  ye  ever  seen  it  played  ?  get 
the  book,  it  isn't  like  '  Nicholas,'  ye've  a  dale  to 
say,  my  boy,  its  a  foine  part,  its  the  *  Beadle.'  '  I 
got  the  book,  and,  smothered  my  disgust  at  the 
low  estimate  of  my  ability  ;  and  when  the  evening 
came  I  played  the  part ;  as  Doyne  said,  it  was  a 
spaking  part,  but  I  hadn't  much  to  spake,  merely 
to  ring  a  hand-bell  and  bawl  out  in  a  snuffling 
voice,  "  I'll  dance  with  Miss  Tabitha  Jenkins." 
No,  it  wasn't  much,  but  it  certainly  was  an 
advance  beyond  "  Nicholas,"  and  in  a  different 
department  of  the  drama.  It  might  be  said  that 
my  first  appearance  was  as  a  pantomimist ;  my 
second  as  a  comedian.  Yes,  on  the  whole,  the 
Beadle  like  Nicholas  was  a  success.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  season  some  musical  organization 


50  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

with  which  Mr.  Ostinelli  was  connected,  wanted 
to  make  a  visit  to  Maine.  Mr.  Ostinelli's  dream 
of  a  return  to  his  sunny  Italy  was  still  but  a 
dream,  for  the  lack  of  lucre  was  a  chronic  com- 
plaint with  him.  I  met  him  one  morning,  with, 
"  Ah  !  good  day,  Mr.  Ostinelli.  I  suppose  you 
leave  for  Italy  as  soon  as  the  theatre  closes  ?  " 
"Well,  no,  Walter,"  he  genially  replied — the 
Signer  was  always  genial — "I  think  no.  I  have 
been  in  doubt  if  I  go  to  Italy  this  summer  or  go 
to  Bangor.  Well,  I  think  I  go  to  Bangor " 
and  he  went. 

The  spectacular  romantic  drama  of  "Undine" 
was  brought  out  with  great  expense,  and  early  in 
the  season  "  Pizarro  "  was  got  up  in  very  grand 
style.  Neither  of  these  proved  attractive.  With 
respect  to  the  first  named,  it  was  a  disastrous  fail- 
ure. One  of  the  wags  of  the  press  suggested 
that  instead  of  "  Undine,  or  the  Spirit  of  the 
Waters,"  it  should  have  been  announced  as  "  Un- 
done, or  Spirit  and  Water."  The  scenery  for 
these  two  pieces  was  painted  by  Henry  Isherwood. 
Mr.  I.  was  a  fine  scenic  artist,  with  a  craze  for 
acting.  Nothing  could  be  much  worse  than  his 
acting ;  anything  better  than  his  scene  painting 
was  rarely  seen.  The  painter's  gallery  of  a 
theatre  is  a  great  field  for  practical  jokes.  Mr. 
Hardy,  who  succeeded  Mr.  Doyne  as  prompter, 
was  much  annoyed  at  the  change,  and  would 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  51 

liave  preferred  remaining  in  the  paint-room,  and 
the  fellows  in  the  paint-room  took  a  wicked  de- 
light in  plaguing  him.  Every  day  at  rehearsal, 
if  the  manager  was  momentarily  absent,  down 
would  come  a  shower  of  old  paint  brushes,  lumps 
of  whiting  and  pieces  of  glue,  labeled,  "  Hardy, 
ex-member  of  the  Royal  Academy,  Stage  Mana- 
ger;" "Hardy,  Painter  to  His  Majesty,  Prompter;" 
"  Hardy,  President  of  Academy  of  Design,  Ballet 
Master."  The  fun  was  going  on  very  lively  one 
morning  when  Mr.  Pelby,  hearing  the  racket, 
came  quickly  on  the  stage  just  in  time  to  receive 
upon  the  crown  of  his  handsome  new  hat,  an 
enormous  brush  reeking  with  yellow  ochre.  The 
fun  stopped  at  once,  and  the  forfeit-book  was  bal- 
anced on  salary  day. 

In  the  following  year  the  theatre  passed  from 
the  control  of  Mr.  Pelby  into  the  hands  of  a  syn- 
dicate of  gentlemen,  of  whom  the  two  most  active 
were  Messrs.  Dana  and  Mitchell.  Mr.  Francis 
W.  Dana  was  a  gentleman  held  in  high  estima- 
tion ;  he  was,  I  believe,  the  father  of  the  well- 
known  author  of  "  Before  the  Mast."  I  gradu- 
ated at  the  close  of  my  first  season  with  honora- 
ble mention,  having  been  entrusted  on  three  or 
four  occasions  with  small  speaking  parts,  and  had 
passed  muster  with  the  public  in  the  "  Biondello" 
of  the  play  in  which  I  achieved  my  first  great 
success,  as  "  Nicholas."  Mr.  Dana  accepted  me 


52  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

"on  sight,"  with  an  advance  of  wages,  and  I  was 
enrolled  as  an  actor  of  "  general  utility,"  at  a 
salary  of  $8.00  per  week.  Mr.  Dana  engaged  a 
strong  company,  and  to  give  eclat  to  the  opening, 
announced  as  acting  manager  for  the  first  two 
months,  Mr.  J.  B.  Booth. 

I  feel  diffidence  in  touching  on  the  career  of 
the  great  actor  of  whom  so  much  has  been  writ- 
ten, and  of  whom  so  many  statements  have  been 
made  and  anecdotes  recorded  which  really  belong 
to  the  dramatic  apocrypha.  Not  to  write  the 
life  of  Booth,  not  to  recount  the  incidents  of  his 
remarkable  career,  but  to  jot  down  a  few  of  the 
items  impressed  upon  my  memory  by  personal 
and  professional  association  at  various  times  dur- 
ing some  twenty  years,  is  my  simple  purpose. 

Mr.  Booth's  first  appearance  in  Boston  was  in 
1822,  six  years  previous.  From  that  time  he 
had  been  at  each  season  a  visitor,  and  each  suc- 
cessive season  added  to  his  popularity.  To  the 
duties  of  stage  manager  he  brought,  in  addition 
to  his  great  experience  and  learning,  the  most 
complete  attention  to  every  matter  of  detail  and 
an  industry  that  knew  no  limit.  He  studied  the 
interest  and  reputation  of  the  institution  to  which 
he  was  attached  as  entirely  as  if  he  had  been  the 
owner  or  lessee,  instead  of  its  temporary  two- 
months'  stage  manager.  (Granted  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  he  should  not  have  done  so,  yet 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  53 

how  few  men  of  far  less  name  and  fame  on 
the  American  stage  would  have  recognized  the 
obligation.)  From  the  night  of  the  opening, 
the  inquiry  was  on  all  lips,  "When  does  Booth 
appear  ?  how  soon  is  Booth  to  act  ? "  And 
during  all  the  time  he  was  each  day  in  attend- 
ance at  rehearsal,  each  night  from  the  first 
music-call  until  the  curtain  fell  upon  the  farce — 
the  faithful  sentinel  behind  the  scenes.  He 
opened  in  Richard,  as  was  his  custom.  It  was 
to  me  THE  event,  thus  far,  of  my  new  life. 

Mr.  Booth's  absolute  identification  with  the 
character  he  represented,  I  think,  can  never 
have  been  exceeded  by  any  actor  of  any  era  or 
clime.  I  remember  a  little  incident  on  that 
opening  night,  slight  in  itself,  and  yet  strik- 
ingly illustrative  on  this  point.  As  the  flats 
drew  for  one  of  the  scenes  of  the  fifth  act,  just  as 
Mr.  Booth  was  making  his  exit,  a  stage  hand 
was  inadvertently  caught  off-guard  and  exposed 
for  a  moment  to  the  view  of  the  audience.  As 
Booth  came  off  the  stage,  he  looked  at  the 
prompter,  with  the  utterance  of  six  or  seven 
words ;  they  were  not  uttered  with  a  tone  of 
indifference,  they  were  not  hissed  forth,  they 
were  neither  snarled  nor  shouted  out — but  the 
six  words,  "  How  came  that  man  in  Bosworth 
field  ?"  were  spoken  with  a  deep  intensity,  and, 
accompanied  by  the  lightning  glance  of  eyes 


54  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

that  flashed  defiance — pity — despair — revenge 
or  love,  with  equal  power,  they  impressed  upon 
the  listener  the  actuality  and  presence — not  of 
Booth — but  of  Richard,  King  of  England. 

In  illustration  of  Mr.  Booth's  willingness  to 
subordinate  his  own  unquestioned  position  to 
oblige  or  serve  a  friend  or  employer,  I  will  men- 
tion two  incidents.  On  one  occasion,  at  Balti- 
more, when  in  the  height  of  his  fame,  he  played 
the  "  second  actor"  to  the  "Hamlet"  of  Mr. 
Charles  Kean ;  at  his  delivery  of  the  soliloquy 
of  "  Thoughts  black,"  etc.,  the  house  rose  en 
masse  and  cheered  him  to  the  echo.  And  in  the 
same  spirit,  when  Mr.  Martin,  the  representative 
of  the  small  part  of  Almagro,  in  the  play  of 
"  Pizarro,"  failed  to  make  his  appearance  at  the 
theatre  in  time,  Mr.  Booth  ran  up  to  the  ward- 
robe, got  Mr.  Martin's  dress,  and  was  ready  for 
the  insignificant  character  at  ten  minutes'  notice. 
This  latter  event  passed  under  my  own  observa- 
tion. I  think  if  the  rising  of  the  curtain  had 
depended  on  such  a  sacrifice  of  dignity  on  the 
part  of  Thomas  A.  Cooper  or  Edwin.  Forrest,  it 
would  never  have  gone  up. 

And  yet  Booth  lost  no  jot  of  dignity  by  the 
act.  He  was  a  striking  exemplification  and 
proof  that  acting  is  an  independent  art  and  not 
a  mere  combination  of  oratory  with  scenic  dis- 
play. He  was  a  born  actor.  He  had  a  classical 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  55 

education,  learned  printing,  and  studied  law. 
He  had  been  a  midshipman  in  the  British  Navy, 
and  was  gifted  with  great  literary  ability.  None 
of  his  family  had  part  or  interest  in  the  the- 
atrical profession,  but  from  an  innate  love  of 
acting  he  resolved  to  be  an  actor,  and  at  seven- 
teen years  of  age  left  his  home,  and,  against  the 
wishes  of  his  father,  engaged  with  a  provincial 
manager. 

The  highest  descriptive  powers  often  fail  in 
giving  an  adequate  idea  of  the  wonders  of  nature. 
We  read  of  the  beauty  and  majesty  of  Yosemite  ; 
of  the  sublimity  and  grandeur  of  Niagara ;  and 
yet  how  futile  and  vain  has  been  the  attempt  of 
the  most  skillful  word-painter  to  show  us  the  one 
or  the  other.  We  never  see  Yosemite  until  we 
stand  within  the  mighty  valley ;  we  never  see 
Niagara  until  we  stand  before  the  awful  cataract. 
In  attempting  to  describe  the  work  of  a  great 
actor  we  are  confronted  with  another  obstacle. 
We  are  describing  what  no  longer  exists — the 
work  has  passed  away,  the  memory  only  remains. 
My  old  friend,  Mr.  Murdoch,  speaking  of  Mr. 
Booth,  says  that  u  his  great  charm  in  acting  was 
the  result  of  his  imaginative  powers  and  the  soul- 
stirring  sensations  which  his  impassioned  vocal 
effects  produced  when  he  was  glowing  with  the 
fervor  of  the  tragic  muse."  And  Mr.  Thomas 
R.  Gould  tells  us  that  "  his  voice  transcended 


56  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

music  —  that  it  brought  airs  from  heaven  and 
blasts  from  hell — it  was  the  earthquake  voice  of 
victory,  or  full  of  tears  and  heartbreak ;  no  one 
of  all  the  orators  of  Greece  and  Rome,  nor  any 
one  who  has  been  fashioned  after  them  in  modern 
times,  has  probably  ever  portrayed  the  beauty, 
truth  and  power  of  the  human  voice  as  they  were 
displayed  in  his  best  efforts  by  Booth."  The 
three  great  actors  of  the  age  were  Cooke,  Kean 
and  Booth.  The  first  had  passed  away  before 
my  time ;  the  second  I  never  saw  but  once,  and 
then  only  for  a  few  moments,  when  he  humbly 
pleaded  in  vain  for  forgiveness  of  an  indignant 
public.  Booth  I  personally  knew  for  more  than 
twenty  years.  In  some  respects  they  appear  to 
have  been  singularly  alike ;  it  is  not  probable 
that  either  of  them  had  any  organic  insanity,  but 
there  was  frequently  little  difference  between  the 
excesses  of  their  imagination  and  the  freaks  of 
the  madman.  Intellectually,  Booth  was  the  great- 
est of  the  three  ;  he  had  the  advantage  of  a  good 
education  and  was  a  hard  student  through  life. 
He  spoke  six  or  eight  languages,  and  at  the 
French  Theatre,  in  New  Orleans,  had  success- 
fully played  in  the  tragedies  of  Racine.  He  had 
wonderful  conversational  powers,  and  was  a  the- 
ologian as  well  as  an  actor ;  to  him  all  forms  of 
religion  and  all  temples  of  devotion  were  sacred. 
He  worshipped  at  many  shrines.  In  passing  a 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  57 

church  he  would  reverently  bow  his  head,  and  he 
read  and  admired  the  Koran.  In  the  synagogue 
he  would  converse  with  the  Rabbis  and  learned 
doctors,  and  join  their  worship  in  the  Hebrew 
tongue.  He  read  the  Talmud,  and  many  Fathers 
of  the  Roman  church  recount  pleasant  hours  spent 
with  him  in  theological  discourse,  and  claimed 
him  as  of  their  persuasion,  by  his  knowledge  of 
the  mysteries  of  their  faith ;  yet  no  religion  was 
too  humble,  and  of  all  the  places  of  worship  he 
frequented,  "  that  which  he  most  loved,"  says  his 
daughter,  "  was  a  floating  church,  or  Sailors' 
Bethel."  Mr.  Booth  had  a  wonderful  individual- 
ity ;  no  other  actor  resembled  him  ;  in  his  great 
moments  there  was  something  awful  in  his  pas- 
sion. He  impressed  the  beholder  as  something 
supernatural ;  as  a  being  from  another  world. 
In  his  composition,  linked  to  grace,  gentleness, 
beauty  and  electric  swiftness,  there  was  a  tower- 
ing and  tempestuous  passion,  a  supernatural  en- 
ergy that  re-inspired  even  the  muse  of  Shakes- 
peare. Mr.  Booth  had  a  numerous  family  ;  with 
his  eldest  son,  Junius  Booth,  Jr.,  I  was  on  terms 
of  intimate  acquaintanceship  for  many  years  ;  he 
died  a  few  years  since.  Mr.  Edwin  Booth  I  know, 
but  not  so  well.  Another  son,  the  unhappy  hero 
of  one  of  the  saddest  tragedies  ever  acted  on  the 
great  world's  stage,  I  never  knew.  His  name 
can  have  no  place  in  these  " 

0?  THT5      * 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.  Collingbourne — Mr.  Hallam — Mr.  Blaike's  Stolen  Thun- 
der—John R.  Scott — Mrs.  Mary  Duff  and  Booth  in  the 
"Apostate" — The  Bohemian  Mother — Mr.  J.  S.  Jones — 
The  Grand  Combat — Mr.  Archer — Mr.  Joseph  Cowell — 
The  Salem  Theatre  —  Captain  Thunderbolt  —  Captain 
Lightfoot — Cora's  Child — Mr.  Horn  and  Mrs.  Austin — 
Mr.  John  Gilbert — Clara  Fisher — Mr.  and  Mrs.  George 
Barrett — Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  H.  Smith — Edwin  Forrest- 
Henry  J.  Finn. 

THE  assistant  stage  manager  was  Mr.  Alex- 
ander M.  Wilson,  and  the  prompter  was 
Mr.  Collingbourne,  whose  very  long  name  was 
subsequently  abbreviated  into  Colinborn — the 
actors  made  it  shorter,  and  always  called  him 
Colly.  Mr.  C.  was  a  very  good  actor  from  the 
London  minor  theatres  ;  he  was  full  of  anecdotes 
of  Mr.  O.  Smith  and  Paul  Bedford,  an  admirable 
pantomimist,  and  could  fight  a  successful  broad- 
sword combat  to  the  music  of  the  overture  to 
"  Lodoiska,"  with  a  weapon  in  each  hand  and 
one  between  his  teeth,  and  slay  with  perfect  ease 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  59 

six  or  eight  assailants.  In  Celeste's  engage- 
ments he  was  invaluable.  The  first  "  old  man" 
of  the  company  was  Mr.  Jones  from  the  Park 
Theatre.  Mr.  J.  was  of  a  very  passionate  tem- 
perament, and  when  angry  at  anything,  or  with 
anybody,  would  get  beyond  the  power  of  utter- 
ance, and  with  hands  behind  his  back,  fillip  up 
his  coat-tails  and  dance  and  whistle.  This  habit 
had  inoculated  his  stage  method,  and  in  the  pas- 
.sionate  old  man,  when  he  got  to  his  dance  and 
his  phew !  phew !  phew !  he  would  bring  down 
the  house.  I  believe  that  it  was  under  his  man- 
agement in  the  western  country  that  Mr.  Forrest 
acted  before  he  became  famous. 

Mr.  Edward  N.Thayer  was  the  "  Bob  Handy" 
of  the  opening  night.  At  that  period  he  was  an 
elegant  comedian,  and  the  most  perfect  and  fin- 
ished representative  of  the  fops  and  butterflies 
of  the  old  school  then  on  the  stage.  His  per- 
formance of  "  My  Lord  Duke "  in  Garrick's 
"  High  Life  Below  Stairs,"  was  inimitable,  and 
in  the  whole  range  of  light  comedy  he  was  per- 
fectly at  home.  Mr.  Thayer  was  a  great  favorite 
in  Philadelphia,  and  died  some  years  since  in 
that  city  at  an  advanced  age. 

There  was  a  Mr.  Hallam  in  the  company.  I 
think  this  gentleman  was  a  grandson  or  great- 
grandson  of  Mr.  Lewis  Hallam,  who,  in  the  year 
1752,  opened  the  doors  of  the  theatre  in  Williams- 


60  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

burgh — the  then  capital  of  Virginia — for  the 
performance  of  the  first  play  acted  on  the 
American  Stage.  He  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of 
link  connecting  the  Eighteenth  with  the  Nine- 
teenth Century. 

Mr.  Blaz'ke — known  as  Ben  Blaike,  or  Blaike 
with  the  i — I  remember  played  the  "  Postillion  " 
on  the  opening  night ;  his  entrance  in  the 
comedy  just  preceded  that  of  his  master,  Bob 
Handy,  and  the  audience,  thinking  it  was 
"  Bob,"  gave  him  a  rousing  reception — in  fact, 
he  stole  most  of  Thayer's  thunder;  he  never 
got  so  much  applause  afterwards  as  he  did  that 
night — by  mistake.  Mr.  Ben  Blaz'ke  was  another 
combat  fighter,  and  was  always  hunting  for  new 
amelo-drams,"  as  he  called  them.  He  came  into 
the  green-room  one  morning  with  a  package  as  big 
as  a  tea-box,  and  thrusting  it  upon  Mrs.  Duff  with 
a  request  that  she  would  take  them  home  and  read 
them,  answered  to  her  question  of  "  What  are 
they,  Mr.  Blaike  ?" — "  Eleven  new  melo-drams, 
with  all  the  music  !"  Mrs.  Duff  suggested  that 
he  had  better  submit  them  first  to  the  man- 
ager for  perusal.  I  think  they  died  unseen. 

Away  down  in  the  programme  of  that  first 
night  was  printed,  u  Peter — Mr.  Scott."  Like 
many  men  who  have  "achieved  greatness,"  John 
R.  Scott  began  at  the  very  foot  of  the  dramatic 
ladder,  and  by  perseverance  rose  to  its  highest 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  61 

rounds.  He  was  for  many  years  a  prime  favor- 
ite in  New  York,  under  the  management  of  the 
late  Thomas  S.  Hamblin,  and  in  England  played 
"Sir  Giles  Overreach"  and  other  tragic  charac- 
ters with  success.  I  knew  him  long  and  well ; 
and  of  all  who  ever  knew  John  R.  Scott,  "  none 
knew  him  but  to  love  him." 

I  have  now  to  recall  a  name  that  gleams  out 
brightly  through  the  lengthening  shadows  of 
the  past.  Mrs.  Mary  Duff  had  been  long  before 
the  public,  having  made  her  first  appearance  in 
America  sixteen  years  prior  to  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  as  "Juliet"  to  the  "Romeo"  of  her  hus- 
band. It  was  admitted  that  a  more  lovely  Juliet 
had  not  been  seen,  but  a  lack  of  power  and  con- 
ception was  too  evident,  and  she  gave  but  little 
promise  of  assuming  a  position  that  eventually 
placed  her  in  the  front  rank  as  a  tragedienne. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duff  were  prime  favorites,  and 
she  re-appeared  at  this  time  with  undiminished 
power.  Booth  and  Mrs.  Duff  made  a  combina- 
tion of  supreme  excellence,  such  as  I  had  never 
before  seen  and  have  never  since  looked  upon.  I 
especially  remember  their  performance  in  Shiel's 
tragedy  of  the  "Apostate";  it  was  a  concentra- 
tion of  talent  on  which  every  surviving  lover  of 
the  drama  still  dwells  with  many  a  lingering 
reminiscence  of  the  bye-gone  glories  of  histrionic 
excellence.  Never  can  I  forget  that  closing 


62  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

scene  of  the  fourth  act — the  electric  eyes  of 
Booth,  blazing  with  hellish  malignity,  his  arms 
twined  around  the  despairing  "Floriiida,"  whose 
lovely  and  expressive  face,  as  well  as  the  tones 
of  a  voice  "  made  all  of  music,"  bespoke  an  agony 
beyond  all  power  of  description — the  picture  is 
burnt  into  my  memory.  I  quote  a  portion  of  the 
dialogue : 

PESCARA. 
Thou  shalt  see  him 

In  maddening  agony ;  thou  shalt  behold  him, 

And  vainly  think  thou  couldst  have  saved  him,  too — 

FLORINDA. 
How ;  save  him  !     Can  I  save  him  ? 

PESCARA. 
Be  my  wife ! 

FLORINDA. 
Your  wife  !     Oh,  no  ;  it  is  too  horrible. 

PESCARA. 

I'll  hunt  for  life,  in  every  trembling  limb 
And  chase  it  down  !  the  driving  steel  shall  plunge — 
Nay,  do  not  stop  your  ears — for  his  shrill  screams 
Shall  pierce  the  solid  deafness  of  the  tomb  ! 

FLORINDA. 

They're  in  my  brain  already  !     Oh,  Hemeya, 
Let  me  not  hear  thy  cries — let — let  me  fly 
And  'scape  from  it.     Oh,  for  some  depth  of  Earth 
Where  I  may  plunge,  to  hear  that  scream  no  more. 
Unhand  me  !  let  me  fly  !— 'tis  in  my  heart— 
My  eyes — my  brain — 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  63 

PESCARA. 

there  !  look  there  !  he  dies  !  see  where  he  dies  ! 
The  wheel  goes  round — see,  the  red  froth  of  blood  ! 
His  hair  stands  up  and  drips  with  agony. 
On  thee,  on  thee  he  calls,  and  bids  thee  save  him. 
Look  there ! 

FLORINDA. 

Spare — spare  him  !     Villains — murderers  ! 

Oh,  spare  him  ! 

Hemeya  !  lo,  they  wrench  his  heart  away  ! 

They  drink  his  gushing  blood  ! — oh,  God  !  oh,  God  ! 

When  Floriiida  fell  into  Pescara's  arms — the 
tension  of  a  shuddering  silence  that  had  absorbed 
the  audience  burst  into  a  roar  like  Niagara. 
Mrs.  Duff  played  in  a  piece  called  the  "  Bohe- 
mian Mother,"  in  which  her  remarkable  power 
over  an  audience  made  itself  felt  by  the  utterance 
of  one  shriek;  I  forget  the  plot  of  the  play,  but  I 
believe  the  interest  of  the  spectator  was  led  up  to 
the  point  where  the  wretched  mother  thinks  that 
she  has  taken  the  life  of  her  illegitimate  child. 
That  one  shriek  was  of  itself  a  drama,  and 
touched  the  human  heart  like  the  "  Was  he 
alive?"  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  or  the  "Do  it!  nor 
leave  the  task  to  me"  of  Fanny  Kemble.  Mrs. 
Duff's  sister  was  the  first  wife  of  the  poet  Moore, 
and  there  is  a  tradition  that  his  song  com- 
mencing, "Mary,  I  believe  thee  true,"  was 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Duff. 


64  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

What  pleasant  "memory"  is  this  that  comes 
up  from  the  long  ago?  It  is  that  of  my  friend, 
my  contemporary,  my  manager;  a  good  actor,  a 
successful  dramatist,  an  eminent  physician — Mr. 
J.  S.  Jones,  better  known  as  Dr.  J.  S.  Jones. 
Mr.  Jones  began  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  pro- 
fession, and  for  the  first  eight  or  ten  years  we 
were  on  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy.  He  was 
a  prolific  author,  and  some  of  his  dramas  still 
hold  possession  of  the  stage.  From  the  com- 
mencement of  his  theatrical  life,  the  study  of 
surgery  had  quite  as  much  attraction  for  him  as 
the  study  of  the  drama,  and  at  the  close  of  his 
managerial  career  he  became  an  eminent  physi- 
cian and  surgeon  of  Boston,  his  native  city. 

I  shall  have  further  occasion  to  speak  of 
Doctor  Jones,  but  am  tempted  here  to  refer  to 
a  circumstance  causing  the  Doctor  and  myself  a 
profound  chagrin  at  the  time  and  ridiculously 
laughable.  We  neither  of  us  possessed  any 
skill  worth  speaking  of  as  swordsmen,  but,  like 
most  young  actors  of  those  days,  were  well 
pleased  to  be  cast  for  a  part  which  called  for  a 
combat.  There  was  considerable  emulation  be- 
tween us  as  to  which  could  "fight  a  combat"  the 
best,  and  our  knuckles  were  often  sore  from  the 
trials  between  us  to  test  the  point.  At  length 
some  now  forgotten  melo-drama  was  played  in 
which  we  were  pitted  against  each  other.  I  was 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  65 

a  smuggler  and  he  a  soldier.  Anxious  to  acquit 
ourselves  well,  we  arranged  a  long  and  telling 
fight,  and  rehearsed  it  over  and  over  again;  it 
was  not  to  be  an  indiscriminate  melee — a  mixed- 
up  scrimmage — oh,  no;  we  had  both  of  us  been 
often  in  that  kind  of  a  stage  fight ;  but  this  was 
another  thing;  we  were  to  have  the  stage  all  to 
ourselves,  for  the  first  time — and  lo!  the  issue! 
From  over  anxiety,  and  want  of  self-possession 
which  grew  into  absolute  fright,  during  the  whole 
of  that  "desperate  combat"  our  weapons  never 
once  came  in  contact.  Jones  would  make  a 
thrust  at  one  part  of  my  anatomy,  which  I 
would  defend  by  guarding  another.  In  our  vain 
efforts  to  deal  the  effective  blows  which  we  had 
practiced  so  long,  my  sword  would  miss  his,  and 
run  round  after  it,  describing  a  circle,  in  a  fruit- 
less effort  to  "catch  up" — and  then  his  gleaming 
blade  would  come  at  mine  in  the  same  ridiculous 
fashion.  When  I  struck  at  his  head,  he  would 
guard  his  legs — and  I  adopted  the  same  tac- 
tics ;  the  more  we  missed  the  more  anxious 
we  were  to  hit,  and  the  less  able  to  do  so. 
Jones  was  inclined  to  laugh  when  our  mishaps 
began  (he  was  of  an  easy  turn  of  temper),  but 
when  the  contemptuous  laughter  of  the  audience 
was  blended  with  a  sibilant  sound  he  looked 
graver — and  I  never  felt  more  serious  in  my 
life.  We  slashed  away,  mixing  premes  and 


66  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

flemishes  and  double-flemishes  in  the  air,  the 
audience  meantime  convulsed  with  mirth,  and 
the  orchestra  enjoying  the  fun,  Ostinelli  sitting 
up  high  on  the  leader's  chair  and  laughing  till 
the  tears  ran  from  his  eyes.  An  inglorious 
retreat  terminated  the  fray  in  which  we  had 
succeeded  in  hitting  each  other  often  enough. 
Jones  came  out  of  the  fight  with  a  swelling  on 
his  forehead  as  big  as  a  walnut,  and  my  wrist 
got  a  slash  that  prevented  the  use  of  my  hand 
for  a  week. 

Ashamed  of  the  ridiculous  exhibition  we  had 
made,  we  both  resolved  to  avoid  future  failure, 
and  went  into  training  with  Colly,  and  subse- 
quently with  Mr.  W.  H.  Smith,  who  was  an 
admirable  master-of-fence,  and  fought  no  more 
combats  in  the  air. 

I  am  reminded  here  of  another  stage  combat 
of  a  remarkable  character,  at  a  later  period,  when 
I  was  a  member  of  the  u National"  company. 
The  melo-drama  of  the  "Secret  Mine"  was  pro- 
duced, and  an  equestrian  company  had  been 
engaged  to  assist  in  the  representation.  I  played 
the  leader  of  a  band  of  Spahis,  or  soldiers,  or 
something  of  the  kind,  and  the  opening  of  the 
scene  discovered  us  "en  bivouac"  awaiting  the 
foe;  our  opponents — the  mounted  men  of  the 
circus — were  to  charge  on  us  through  the  pos- 
tern, and  after  a  "desperate  combat  of  horse  and 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  67 

foot,"  as  the  play-bills  had  it,  were  to  be  driven 
from  the  stage.  The  whole  arrangement  seemed 
smooth  at  rehearsal — bnt  at  night  it  was  a  fail- 
nre.  The  stage  had  been  strewed  with  saw-dnst 
and  tan,  and  all  the  lights  being  turned  off,  was 
excessively  dark.  On  rushed  the  cavalry  with 
a  loud  blare  of  trumpets,  and  each  man  arose  to 
the  encounter.  I  singled  out  the  leader  and 
"went  for  him."  The  stage  was  exceedingly 
crowded,  and  what  with  the  semi-obscurity  of 
the  scene  and  my  own  near-sightedness  I  mis- 
took the  horse  for  the  man,  and  hit  him  a  stag- 
gering blow  on  the  head.  My  opponent  was 
on  guard,  and  puzzled  at  my  action,  reined  his 
horse  back;  I  was  equally  puzzled,  and  still 
thinking  the  horse  was  the  man,  said  to 
him  soto-voce :  "What's  the  matter — have  you 
forgotten  the  fight?  Don't  you  remember? 
it's  head  blows  and  then  two  'eights'" — and 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word  I  hit  him  an- 
other lick.  The  horse  gave  a  snort  of  protest 
against  this  unprovoked  assault,  and  the  indig- 
nant circus-rider  put  the  spurs  to  his  sides,  and 
nearly  galloped  over  me  in  his  angry  exit. 
That  was  the  first  and  only  time  I  ever  fought 
a  combat  with  a  horse. 

Thomas  Archer  was  an  actor  who  combined 
all  the  requirements  for  eminence ;  but  they 
were,  unfortunately,  blighted  and  withered  by 


68  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

want  of  self-control.  With  a  grand  physique 
and  a  voice  remarkably  powerful  and  sonorous, 
he  had  received  a  stage-training  that  fitted  him 
to  meet  all  the  requirements  of  "leading  man'1'1 
in  a  first-class  theatre,  and  for  the  short  time  he 
was  before  the  public,  was  a  prime  favorite ;  but 
the  demon  of  indulgence  wrecked  the  fair  fame 
and  name  of  the  poor  actor.  He  lost  position- 
reputation — everything — and  ended  his  career 
in  the  lowest  theatre  in  the  lowest  slums  of 
London. 

The  opening  address  of  the  second  season  of 
the  Tremont  Theatre  was  written  by  the  accom- 
lished  poetess  Mrs.  Ware,  and  spoken  by  Mr. 
Archer. 

On  Mr.  Booth's  retirement  from  the  stage 
management  Mr.  Cowell  succeeded  him.  "Old 
Joe  Cowell,"  so  called  to  distinguish  him  from 
his  son,  young  Joe,  who  succeeded  so  well  in 
imitating  his  father's  manner  and  voice,  espe- 
cially in  the  character  of  "Crack"  in  the  "Turn- 
pike Gate" — one  of  Mr.  Cowell 's  specialties— 
that  the  one  might  well  be  taken  for  the  other.  I 
remember  Mr.  Cowell's  affability,  and  the  inter- 
est he  felt  in  my  professional  progress  with  much 
pleasure ;  and  it  was  a  pleasant  reminder  of  the 
old  days  to  receive  from  his  grand-daughter,  the 
accomplished  Miss  Sydney  Cowell,  nearly  sixty 
years  after,  her  portrait,  backed  with  the  legend, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  69 

"To   my  dear  grandfather's   old  friend,  Walter 
Leman." 

A  theatre  had  been  built  in  Salem,  Massachu- 
setts, and  a  detachment  of  the  Boston  Company 
was  occasionally  sent  down  for  an  evening's  per- 
formance. It  was  before  the  era  of  railroads,  and 
the  transit  was  made  in  Concord  coaches  over  the 
old  Newburyport  turnpike.  These  excursions 
were  a  pleasant  change  to  the  actors,  and  every- 
body liked  to  " go  down  to  Salem"  for  a  night. 
The  progress  of  a  company  of  actors  in  those 
days  was  rather  a  novelty — there  were  no  "com- 
binations" sloshing  around  as  now;  and,  whether 
true  or  not,  it  was  reported  that  the  old  women 
who  lived  on  the  road,  when  they  saw  the  "Tre- 
mont"  company  approaching,  used  to  call  out  in 
great  trepidation:  "Sally,  take  in  the  clothes— 
the  actors  are  coming!" 

I  remember  a  strange  alarm  that  was  started 
on  that  Salem  road  on  one  occasion,  though  not 
by  the  actors.  The  robbery  of  Major  John  Bray 
by  a  noted  highwayman  named  Mike  Martin, 
caused  great  excitement  throughout  New  Eng- 
land, sixty  years  ago.  Martin  had  been  guilty 
of  numerous  crimes,  and  was  said  to  be  leagued 
with  another  notorious  outlaw,  under  the  cogno- 
men of  "  Captain  Thunderbolt "-  —Martin  himself 
being  known  as  "Captain  Lightfoot."  A  dime 
novel  kind  of  pamphlet  had  been  published  re- 


yo  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

counting  the  exploits  of  these  knights  of  the 
road,  and  all  the  wonder-mongers  were  talking 
about  Captain  Thunderbolt  and  Captain  Light- 
foot.  We  had  gone  down  to  act  in  Salem  that 
evening  with  Mr.  Booth,  when  at  dusk  a  horse- 
man, in  great  alarm,  rode  up  to  the  hotel  and 
reported  that  he  had  been  waylaid  by  a  high- 
wayman, some  two  miles  out  of  town,  who  pre- 
sented a  shot-gun  and  demanded  "  money  or 
blood" — that  he  escaped  by  the  speed  of  his 
horse,  and  heard  the  robber's  missiles  whistle  by 
his  ears  in  his  flight.  It  was  "unanimously 
resolved"  that  the  daring  robber  could  be  no 
other  than  "Michael  Martin,"  and  in  hot  haste 
a  posse  of  ten  or  fifteen  bold  spirits  started  out 
on  horseback  (followed  by  the  man  who  escaped) 
to  scour  the  country  and  catch  the  miscreant. 
As  they  approached  the  scene  of  the  alleged 
crime,  in  the  semi-obscurity  of  a  misty  moon- 
light night,  the  man  who  ran  away  cried  out : 
"There  he  is — there  he  is!  Look  out,  he's  got 
his  gun  leveled — he's  going  to  shoot— look  out!" 
But  the  leader  of  the  posse  dashed  up  to  the 
spot,  regardless  of  the  warning,  and,  instead  of 
"Mike  Martin,"  found — a  roadside  pump!  and 
for  his  gun,  the  wooden  handle  sticking  out  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

I    remember    another    circumstance    on    that 
occasion,   trivial  in  itself,  yet  tending  to  illus- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  71 

trate  the  many-sidedness  of  Mr.  Booth's  char- 
acter. Two  young  men  of  the  company  got 
engaged  in  a  friendly  impromptu  sparring  bout, 
after  rehearsal,  and  we  all  became  (the  ladies  of 
the  company  included)  interested  spectators. 
Mr.  Booth  looked  on  pleasantly  for  a  while,  and 
when  the  bout  ended,  put  himself  in  position, 
illustrating  in  action  and  by  intelligent  comment 
the  art  of  self-defence. 

Another  Salem  incident  I  recall  to  memory,  in 
which  "Cora's  child"  again  comes  to  the  front. 
The  little  one  had  got  the  toothache,  and  to 
appease  its  crying,  the  mother  gave  it  sugar- 
plums. (Sugar-plums  for  the  toothache!)  Of 
course,  this  made  the  matter  worse,  and  just  as 
Wilson,  the  "Rolla"  of  the  night,  was  about  to 
appeal  to  Pizarro's  magnanimity  with— 

' '  And  wilt  thou  harm  that  child  ? 
By  Heaven,  'tis  smiling  in  thy  face"- 

a  loud  howl  convinced  him  that  an  alteration  of 
the  text  was  necessary,  and,  equal  to  the  emer- 
gency, he  asked — 

1 '  And  wilt  thou  harm  that  child  ? 
By  Heaven,  'tis  blubbering  in  thy  face." 

That  little  girl  was  afterwards  Mrs.  Anne 
Sefton,  and  later  Mrs.  James  Wallack,  Jr. 

As  Salem  has  the  floor  ^  I  will  add  one  more 
trifle.  Henry  Horn  and  Mrs.  Austin,  the  famous 


72  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

vocalists,  had  .played  a  grand  engagement  in 
Boston,  and  were  sent  to  Saleni  for  one  night. 
The  play  was  "  Guy  Mannering."  Horn  was 
disgusted  at  the  meagre  house  which  greeted 
him,  and  when  as  the  great  "Moonshee"  he  was 
hailed  by  "Dominie  Sampson"  with  "Saalam 
alaikum !"  Horn  threw  an  angry  glance  around 
the  empty  benches,  and  replied  with  emphasis, 
«  Salem— I  dortt  like  'em  ! " 

Mr.  John  Gilbert  was  my  contemporary  in  the 
early  days  of  which  I  write.  I  think  he  made 
his  first  appearance  in  1828,  playing  "Jaffier"  in 
"  Venice  Preserved,"  and  subsequently  "  Sir  Ed- 
ward Mortimer."  His  efforts  in  tragedy  were 
applauded.  In  the  course  of  his  career  I  believe 
he  has  played  almost  everything ;  but  he  is 
noted  more  particularly  for  excellence  in  the 
delineation  of  old  men.  Mr.  Gilbert  has  been 
long  attached  to  Wallack's  Theatre,  where  he  is 
a  great  favorite.  The  mention  of  Mr.  Gilbert's 
name  reminds  me  of  the  fact  that  of  all  the 
members  of  the  stock  company  attached  to  the 
Tremont  Theatre  in  1828-9,  he  and  myself  are 
the  only  survivors ;  and  of  the  stars  who  appeared 
during  the  season  only  Clara  Fisher  (Mrs.  Mae- 
der)  and  Miss  Lane  (Mrs.  John  Drew)  are  living. 
Of  all  who  saw  the  curtain  rise  on  the  opening 
night  of  the  previous  year,  excepting  myself,  not 
one  survives;  .the  rest — managers,  actors,  musi- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  73 

cians — have  all  been  borne  to  the  bosom  of  our 
common  mother. 

"  If  it  be  now,  'tis  not  to  come;  if  it  be 

not  to  come,  it  will  be  now  ;  if  it  be  not  now,  yet  it  will  come ; 
the  readiness  is  all." 

It  was  during  this  season  that  I  was  brought 
into  professional  intercourse  with  Miss  Clara 
Fisher.  Her  first  engagement  at  the  "Tremont" 
was  a  remarkable  success ;  indeed,  wherever  she 
appeared  she  created  a  furore.  She  played  male 
characters  with  spirit ;  her  singing  was  fasci- 
nating, and  she  acted  her  songs  while  she  sang 
them.  With  what  archness  of  manner,  with  what 
buoyancy  of  spirits,  with  what  taste  in  costume, 
did  she  capture  the  young  men  (the  old  boys  of 
to-day)  who  thronged  to  see  her  sixty  years  ago. 
The  mere  mention  of  her  name  will  resuscitate 
in  the  breast  of  every  surviving  Old-boy  remi- 
niscences of  her  versatility  and  ability. 

In  the  succeeding  Summer  I  was  playing 
under  the  management  of  Mr.  George  Barrett, 
at  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  where  Miss  Fisher 
appeared  for  a  few  nights  ;  and  afterwards  at  New- 
port. I  recall  the  pleasant  sails  down  Narra- 
ganset  Bay,  the  merry  company  on  the  steamer's 
deck,  and  Clara  Fisher  in  the  centre,  engaged  in 
Cutting  up  the  Ox.  With  what  roars  of  laughter 
we  used  to  play  that  game.  I  dare  swear  that 


74  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

she  remembers  it.  Miss  Fisher  became  after- 
wards Mrs.  J.  G.  Maeder,  and  has  reached  a  ven- 
erable age,  respected  by  all. 

Miss  Louisa  Lane,  who  was  announced  as  an 
"  infant  prodigy,"  I  first  knew  at  the  time  of 
which  I  write.  Fifty  years  afterwards  I  played 
in  San  Francisco  with  the  accomplished  actress, 
Mrs.  John  Drew,  once  the  little  girl  known  as 
Louisa  Lane. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Barrett !  Pleasant  "  mem- 
ories" come  back  to  me  as  I  recall  those  names. 
For  years  I  played  with  both.  "Gentleman 
George,"  as  he  was  called,  made  his  entree  on 
the  stage  of  the  old  Boston  Theatre,  as  the  child 
in  Reynold's  comedy  of  "  Laugh  when  you  Can," 
in  1799.  He  was  a  general  favorite.  Mrs.  George 
Barrett  was  for  years  more  than  a  favorite — she 
was  the  petted  idol  of  the  Boston  public ;  of  rare 
excellence  in  her  art,  it  would  be  hard  to  say 
what  she  played  best,  she  played  everything  so 
well.  She  possessed  great  personal  beatity,  which 
the  touch  of  time  seemed  powerless  to  mar,  and 
when  I  last  acted  with  her,  as  late  as  1853,  she 
was  as  lovely  in  form  and  feature  as  when  I  first 
saw  her  thirty  years  before.  Like  Cleopatra,  it 
was  as  if — 

' '  Age  could  not  wither  her, 
Or  custom  stale  her  infinite  variety." 

She  died  some  years  later,  and  retained  her 
rare  beauty  and  grace  to  the  last. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  75 

Another  "  memory"  of  one  gone  to  the  "  far 
realm,"  like  most  of  those  I  knew  in  those  days, 
and  with  him  his  companion — both  my  friends 
and  associates  for  years. 

William  Henry  Sedley  was  a  Welshman  by 
birth.  On  adopting  the  stage  as  his  profession, 
the  name  of  Smith  was  added,  and  he  was  always 
known  as  W.  H.  Smith.  His  wife  was  Miss 
Sarah  Lapsley  Riddle ;  her  sister,  Miss  Eliza 
Riddle,  with  whom,  many  years  later  I  acted  in 
the  South,  was,  I  think,  the  mother  of  the  well- 
known  writer — Miss  Kate  Field.  The  pair  be- 
came great  favorites  with  the  public ;  Mr.  Smith 
as  leading  man  at  the  "  Tremont,"  and  afterwards 
at  the  "  Warren  Theatre ;  "  the  handsome  and 
dashing  "  Harry  Smith,"  and  his  pretty  wife  as 
a  soubrette  and  ingenue.  She  was  a  very  petite 
figure,  and  at  her  first  appearance  caused  great 
merriment — when,  as  "  Albina,"  in  the  u  Will," 
she  had  to  say  to  her  father — "  Here,  stand 
behind  me,  I'll  hide  you  from  their  sight."  Mr. 
Webb,  who  played  "  Mandeville,"  was  a  man  of 
large  stature  and  proportions  ;  it  was  like  a  frog 
hiding  an  ox.  After  the  lapse  of  nearly  half  a 
century,  I  met  Mr.  Smith  on  the  Pacific  Coast  as 
stage  manager  of  the  California  Theatre,  in  San 
Francisco,  and  occasionally  varying  his  duties  by 
the  performance  of  some  comedy  old  man. 

Edwin  Forrest  ranks  among  the  notably  great 
"  memories  "  of  the  time.  I  met  him  first  within 


7  6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

a  year  after  I  had  come  in  contact  with  Cooper. 
He  was  the  very  antipode  of  Cooper  in  his  de- 
portment and  bearing  at  that  period  of  his  life. 
Any  one  who  was  civil  conld  speak  familiarly  to 
Forrest ;  it  took  a  bold  man  to  speak  familiarly 
to  Cooper ;  but  there  was  a  wonderful  change  in 
Forrest  with  the  progress  of  time.  He  was  looked 
upon  as  the  great  American  star — the  noblest 
representative  of  our  national  drama.  He  had 
struggled  bravely  through  all  the  obstacles  that 
impeded  his  early  career,  and  was  recognized  as 
the  legitimate  successor  of  Cooper.  Mr.  Forrest's 
decease  is  of  so  recent  a  date,  and  the  details  of 
his  public  and  private  life  are  so  well  known 
through  the  exhaustive  "  Life,"  compiled  by  Mr. 
James  Rees — as  also  through  Mr.  J.  E.  Murdoch's 
interesting  work,  "  The  Stage,"  as  well  as  through 
the  judicial  reports  of  the  unhappy  litigation  that 
embittered  his  days  and  transformed  the  once 
rough  but  pleasant  gentleman  into  a  moody,  dis- 
contented man — that  I  have  but  little  to  say  that 
has  the  merit  of  being  novel  respecting  him.  I 
played  with  Mr.  Forrest  at  various  times,  and  in 
various  places,  during  the  earlier  portion  of  my 
theatrical  career,  oftentimes  as  his  second,  and 
found  no  difficulty  (as  indeed  did  no  one  who  was 
attentive  to  his  or  her  duties,)  in  acting  with  him. 
He  was  a  man  who  most  certainly  had  strong 
likes  and  dislikes,  but  up  to  the  time  when  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  77 

skeleton  of  suspicion  intruded  upon  his  hearth- 
stone, he  was  popular  with  the  members  of  his 
profession.     I  met  him  for  the  last  time  profes- 
sionally— prior   to    my   removal    to    the    Pacific 
Coast — at  the  Walnut  St.  Theatre,  in  Philadel- 
phia,   in    1847.     After   the   lapse   of   seventeen 
years,  I  met  him  again  in  San  Francisco,  and  lo, 
the  change  ;  the  man  was  transformed  ;  whether 
from  ill  health,  or  the  fatigue  of  the  voyage,  or 
chronic  brooding  on  the  unhappy  termination  or 
rather  the  unhappy  continuation  of  his  domestic 
suit-at-law,  or  from  all  these  causes  combined,  he 
succeeded  in  making  every  one  in  the  theatre  as 
miserable  as  himself,  and  utterly  failed  to  interest 
or  attract  the  public.     In   Mr.   Rees'   u  Life   of 
Forrest  " — a  work  of  524  pages — Forrest's  tour  to 
California  is  dismissed  with  two  lines.     I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Forrest  again,  two  years 
after,   at  the   Boston  Theatre,  and  candor  com- 
pels me  to  say  that  Mr.   Hamblin's  prediction 
made   to    Mr.   J.    E.   Murdoch,  with  respect  to 
Forrest  many  years  previous,  seemed  to  be  liter- 
ally  fulfilled.     Mr.    Hamblin   used   the  words : 
u  Forrest  is  not  now  conscious  of  it,  but  he  will 
yet   realize  the   fact  that  constant  growling  at 
people  will  cause  him  in  time  to  growl  at  him- 
*  self.     He  is  building  around  himself,  as  I  may 
say,  a  wall  which  every  year  is  increasing  in 
height,  so  that  after  awhile  no  one  will  be  able  to 


78  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

get  a  peep  at  him,  and  he  will  then  feel,  when  it 
is  too  late,  that  he  has  shut  the  world  out,  and 
cut  himself  off  from  all  social  intercourse,  save 
with  the  petting  and  the  petted  few  to  whom  he 
extends  an  (  Open  Sesame  '  to  his  varying  moods 
of  bitterness  and  mirth." 

I  think  the  saddest  commentary  on  Mr.  For- 
rest's unhappy  temperament  is  afforded  by  the 
practical  failure  of  his  life-dream,  the  "  Forrest 
Home  for  Actors."  Procrastination  and  the 
affixing  of  conditions  quite  inconsistent  with  the 
habits  and  feelings  of  those  who  were  to  be  pros- 
pectively  its  inmates,  have  so  hampered  and  cir- 
cumscribed the  charity,  that  a  poor  dozen  or  less 
of  superanuated  artists  are  maintained  by  the 
bounty  that  was  meant  to  be  unlimited.  But 
whatever  may  be  said  of  Edwin  Forrest  as  a  man, 
it  may  not  be  denied  that  as  an  actor  he  was 
among  the  foremost  that  our  time  has  seen.  As 
Spartacus  and  Coriolanus,  as  Lear  and  Othello; 
as  Virginius  and  Richelieu,  he  will  be  remembered 
by  the  thousands  who  glory  in  his  triumphs  and 
uphold  his  fame. 

I  draw  once  more  the  curtain  of  the  years  and 
discover — whom  ?      A     son     of    Momus,     who, 
like  many  another  of  his  profession,  originally 
labored  under  the  mistake  that  he  was   intended4 
for  a  tragedian. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  79 

Henry  James  Finn  was  a  native  of  Cape 
Breton.  He  was  brought  when  a  child  to  New 
York,  and  when  about  twenty  years  old,  enlisted 
as  an  assistant  to  the  property  man  of  the  Park 
Theatre,  and  thought  himself  amply  paid  for  his 
services,  if  permitted  to  appear  on  the  stage  to 
say  "  the  carriage  waits,"  or  in  some  other  minor 
capacity.  He  had  been  lawyer,  painter,  school- 
master, editor,  and  eventually  melo-dramatic 
tragedian  of  the  Surrey  Theatre.  Those  who 
saw  him  in  u  Lord  Ogleby,"  "  Monsieur  Jacques," 
"  Dr.  Pangloss,"  "  Bob  Logic,"  u  Beau  Shatterly  " 
and  "  Mawworm,"  could  hardly  associate  the  son 
of  Momus  with  "  Marc  Anthony,"  and  "  lago," 
and  "  Pythias,"  which  he  played  as  second  to 
Cooper.  I  well  remember  the  first  night  of 
Macready's  engagement,  when  he  was  the  "  Icil- 
ius  "  to  the  great  man's  "  Virginius,"  and  played 
the  part  well  (that  was  a  notable  night.  Dan 
Reed,  of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  played 
"  Dentatus  ;  "  the  Hon.  Daniel  Webster  entered 
the  box  attended  by  a  crowd  of  prominent  gentle- 
men, and  was  received  with  repeated  cheers.  I 
remember,  too,  the  marked  applause  which  Mr. 
Webster  gave  to  Reed's  "  Dentatus  "),  but  this  is 
a  digression.  Mr.  Finn  was  for  several  seasons 
a  member  of  the  "Tremont"  Company.  He  was 
a  desirable  guest  on  all  festive  occasions,  and 
kept  the  table  in  a  roar,  but  his  features  ordinarily 


8o  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

were  sober  and  sedate.  He  met  with  a  tragic 
death,  being  a  passenger  on  board  the  steamer 
"  Lexington,"  destroyed  by  fire  on  Long  Island 
Sound,  on  the  night  of  the  i3th  of  January,  1840. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Miss  Rock — The  Tempest — Madame  Feron — James  H.  Hack- 
ett — Mr.  J.  Barnes — John  Augustus  Stone — Metamora — 
Mr.  William  Barry  more — Mrs.  Barrymore — Mr.  John  Sin- 
clair— A  Troublesome  Voice — Jupiter  and  his  Thunderbolt 
— Thomas  Kilner — Mr.  Charles  Kean — The  "Bite"  Theatre 
— Dwarf  Stars — Master  Burke — "  Prepare  for  the  Corona- 
tion"— "Jim  Crow  Rice"— Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anderson — 
Riot  —  The  Portland  Theatre— Archer— Mr.  Forrest— The 
Penobscot  Braves  —  Forrest  at  Bay  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J. 
Barnes  —  Mr.  Wilson  —  Gabriel  Ravel — John  Howard 
Payne. 

MISS  ROCK  was  an  actress  of  distinguished 
ability.  She  came  out  from  England  with 
Mr.  Finn  for  the  Federal  St.  Theatre,  and  re- 
turned after  a  sojourn  of  some  two  years,  play- 
ing as  a  star  at  the  "  Tremont,"  and  subsequent- 
ly, I  believe,  in  New  York.  She  appeared  to 
great  advantage  in  genteel  comedy,  was  a  fine 
singer,  and  performer  on  the  harp.  On  the  pro- 
duction of  the  "  Tempest,"  she  was  the  "  Ariel  " 
of  the  cast. 


82  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

That  revival  of  the  "  Tempest "  calls  up  an- 
other name,  familiar  as  household  words,  that  of 
Mr.  Comer.  Tom  Comer,  as  everbody  called 
him,  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Dana  as  Musical 
Director,  and  for  many  long  years  was  a  great 
favorite  of  the  public.  The  management,  I  re- 
member, was  in  great  doubt  respecting  a  proper 
"  Caliban  "  for  the  "  Tempest,"  when  Mr.  Comer 
suggested  Mr.  Colingbourne.  The  selection  vin- 
dicated his  judgment.  In  his  performance  of 
"  Caliban,"  our  little  friend  Colly  proved  him- 
self a  Shakespearian  actor,  although  he  had  grad- 
uated from  the  "Cobourg  Theatre,"  where 
Shakespeare  was  not  very  often  seen. 

Madame  Feron,  the  famous  prima  donna,  I 
knew  at  this  time.  She  played  a  brilliant  en- 
gagement, opening  in  the  "  Barber  of  Seville." 
When  quite  a  child  she  sang  in  London  when  the 
famous  Catalani  was  queen  of  the  opera,  and 
was  jocularly  called  the  little  cat,  to  distinguish 
her  from  the  great  singer  who  had  the  refined 
appellation  of  the  great  one.  Madame  Feron 
had  sang  in  all  the  European  capitals,  and  was 
acknowledged  a  great  vocalist.  She  was  a  very 
elegant  woman,  somewhat  inclined  to  enbonpoint, 
and  of  great  simplicity  and  affability  of  manner. 
In  speaking,  one  day,  of  the  grandeur  of  the 
lyric  stage  in  Italy,  she  told  me  that  she  once 
played  at  "La  Scala,"  in  Milan,  in  an  opera  in 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  83 

which  was  a  grand  processional  pageant,  with 
seventy  horses  on  the  stage. 

At  this  time,  also,  commenced  my  acquaint- 
anceship with  another  famous  comedian,  who, 
like  so  many  more,  would  persist  in  thinking  he 
was  a  tragedian,  James  H.  Hackett.  He  made  his 
first  appearance  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  J. 
Barnes,  in  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors."  The  men 
were  no  more  alike  than  Messrs.  Robson  and 
Crane,  with  whom  the  public  of  to-day  are  famil- 
iar, in  the  representation  of  the  "Two  Dromios." 
But  Hackett's  imitation  of  Barnes'  manner,  and, 
.above  all,  of  his  remarkable  voice,  made  the  illu- 
sion even  more  complete  than  in  the  case  of  the 
latter  gentlemen.  The  representation  crowded 
the  house  for  many  nights.  Mr.  Hackett  always 
claimed  to  be,  and  certainly  thought  that  he  was, 
a  tragedian ;  the  public  never  recognized  his 
claim.  I  remember  well,  when  at  a  subsequent 
period  he  played  "  Richard  the  Third,"  he  was 
heartily  laughed  at.  But  he  was  an  admirable 
imitator  of  the  heroes  of  tragedy,  and  Kean, 
Cooke  and  others  lived  again  in  his  imitations. 
His  performance  of  "  Falstaif "  was  noted,  and 
his  fame  as  a  representative  of  the  peculiarities 
of  the  Yankee  character  was  wide-spread.  Mr. 
Hackett  was  an  esteemed  gentleman,  and  during 
life  filled  a  large  space  in  the  public  eye. 


84  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  was  re-engaged  as  a  member  of  the  company 
for  the  following  season,  having  reached  the  po- 
sition of  "  Walking  Gentleman."  Mr.  Wilson 
was  Mr.  Dana's  representative,  and  Mr.  W.  H. 
Smith  was  the  stage  manager. 

In  February  Mr.  Forrest  produced  his  prize 
tragedy  of  "  Metamora."  John  Augustus  Stone, 
the  author  of  "  Metamora,"  was  a  man  of  singular 
temperament.  He  had  made  some  attempts  at 
play-writing  previous  to  the  production  of  the 
remarkable  drama  that  certainly  made  a  great 
deal  of  money  for  Mr.  Forrest,  if  it  did  not  en- 
hance his  fame.  The  play  underwent  much 
manipulation  at  the  hand  of  the  tragedian  before 
its  representation,  and  his  wonderful  and  power- 
ful acting  carried  the  piece  through.  Mr.  Forrest 
was  very  tender  on  the  topic  of  "  Metamora," 
and  very  ready  to  resent  any  depreciation  of  Mr. 
Stone's  ability  as  a  dramatist ;  but,  without  doubt r 
his  estimate  of  the  piece  coincided  with  the  opin- 
ion of  the  intelligent  portion  of  the  public.  Mr. 
Stone  was  an  actor,  as  well  as  a  play-wrright.  I 
subsequently  acted  with  him  in  two  or  three 
"  Yankee  "  plays,  or  plays  in  which  the  "  Yankee  " 
was  the  prominent  part.  He  committed  suicide 
by  drowning  some  years  later — I  forget  the  exact 
date — when  partially  insane. 

Another  bright  "  memory  "  of  my  old  days,  is 
the  production  of  the  opera  of  "  Masaniello  " — 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  85 

mainly  because  it  brings  with  it  the  name  of 
William  Barrymore.  This  gentleman  was  the 
son  of  the  original  representative  of  "  Pizarro," 
at  Drury  Lane,  and  his  whole  life  had  been  iden- 
tified with  the  theatre.  He  was  a  most  admira- 
ble stage  director,  and  his  wife,  Mrs.  Barrymore, 
was  undoubtedly  the  finest  pantomimist  and  most 
graceful  dancer  that  had  been  seen — in  that  style 
of  dancing  which  is  attractive  from  grace  alone. 
Her  performance  of  "  Fenella,"  the  dumb  girl, 
was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  ap- 
peals to  the  sympathy  of  an  audience  ever  seen 
within  a  theatre.  Mrs.  B.'s  dumb  show  made 
you  feel  what  she  said,  and,  unlike  many  who 
gesticulate  to  music,  she  needed  no  interpreter. 
Musically,  the  production  of  Masaniello  was  a 
great  event — Mrs.  Austin  and  Miss  Hughes  were 
in  it,  and  the  hero  of  the  piece  was  John  Sinclair, 
another  of  my  great  memories  of  the  past.  Mr. 
S.  was  a  Scotsman,  and  had  been  a  soldier ;  his 
voice  was  of  wonderful  sweetness  and  power,  and 
it  was  not  unusual  for  the  audience  to  recall  him 
for  six  or  eight  repetitions  of  his  popular  ballads ; 
but  Mr.  Sinclair  was  an  abject  slave  to  his  beau- 
tiful voice ;  he  couldn't  take  a  walk,  he  couldn't  dine 
out,  he  couldn't  attend  an  evening  party  for  fear 
of  that  exquisitely  tuned  organ  being  disarranged. 
Poor  Mrs.  Sinclair  used  to  attend  him  assidu- 
ously every  night,  bobbing  from  wing  to  wing 


86  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

with  a  box  of  lozenges  or  troches  or  a  bottle  of 
physic,  or  a  tumbler  of  something  or  other  to 
keep  that  treacherous  servant  up  to  concert-pitch ; 
and  sometimes  she  received  anything  but  thanks, 
for  Sinclair  was  a  very  nervous  and  irritable  man, 
I  remember  a  most  absurd  occurrence  during 
the  representation  of  "  Midas  ;  "  Mr.  S.  was  the 
"  Apollo,"  and  "Jupiter"  was  acted  by  Mr.  Rice. 
This  gentleman  had  a  powerful  voice,  a  pro- 
nounced manner,  an  excellent  set  of  teeth,  and  a 
habit  of  accompanying  any  energetic  action  with 
the  ejaculation — "  whiz  !  "  The  business  of  the 
scene  requires  Jupiter  to  banish  Apollo,  with  an 
accompanying  flash  of  his  thunderboldt ;  at  the 
proper  time,  Rice  with  an  emphatic  "  whiz !  " 
although  it  was  not  set  down  in  his  part,  launched 
his  flaming  bolt  at  Sinclair,  unfortunately  the 
pepper-box  cover  of  the  tin  cylinder  came  off  with 
the  act,  and  the  whole  charge  of  powdered  rosin 
was  spread  over  Sinclair's  white  satin  tunic ;  the 
picture  was  an  impressive  one ;  poor  Sinclair 
standing  aghast,  ejaculated,  "  God  Almighty  !  " 
which  was  not  set  down  in  his  part — and  holding 
out  the  skirts  of  his  ruined  dress  with  the  fore- 
finger and  thumb  of  each  hand,  gave  an  appeal- 
ing glance  to  the  audience,  as  much  as  to  say — see 
what  a  pickle  I'm  in ;  and  Rice,  who  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  joke,  stood  defiant  and  triumphant, 
shaking  the  empty  thunderboldt — his  form  di- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  87 

lated,  his  head  erect,  and  his  handsome  teeth 
grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

Mr.  Kilner — Old  Tom  Kilner,  joined  the  com- 
pany during  the  season.  I  think  that  there  are 
many  living  yet  in  Boston  who  remember  this 
grand  Old  Man  for  cheeriness  of  manner,  for  rich 
and  unctnous  humor,  for  a  laugh  of  such  joviality 
that  it  admitted  no  parallel,  Kilner  must  ever  be 
remembered  by  those  who  knew  him.  I  think 
that  William  Rufus  Blake  was  more  like  Kilner 
than  any  actor,  but  Mr.  Blake  was  hardly  his 
equal.  Kilner's  acting  in  the  passionate  and 
hearty  old  men  was  delightful ;  his  "  Captain 
Copp  "  and  "  Col.  Hardy,"  in  Poole's  comedy  of 
u  Paul  Pry,"  and  characters  of  the  like  nature, 
left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

There  was  some  changes  in  the  company  the 
next  season — Mr.  Russell  represented  Mr.  Dana, 
and  Mr.  George  Barrett  became  stage  manager. 
In  November  an  engagement  was  made  with  Mr. 
Charles  Kean,  and  that  gentleman,  then  but 
little  more  than  twenty  years  of  age,  made  his 
first  appearance  as  Richard  III,  and  met  with  an 
enthusiastic  welcome.  He  was  noted  for  a  pecul- 
iarity in  his  manner  of  delivery,  and  a  certain 
holding  back,  as  it  were,  of  his  powers,  for  es- 
pecial passages  of  his  author — which  told  those 
who  had  played  with  the  elder  Kean,  that  the 
boy  had  the  trick  of  the  father.  It  would  be 


88  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

superfluous  to  dwell  on  the  career  of  Charles 
Kean,  it  is  well  known.  I  saw  him  after  the 
lapse  of  more  than  a  third  of  a  century,  on  the 
Pacific  Coast.  He  was  delighted  to  meet  the 
"  boy  "  that  he  had  known  in  Boston  so  many 
years  before.  Among  my  "  memories  "  of  this 
period,  I  recall  the  opening  of  a  theatre  in  what 
was  then  known  as  Flagg  Alley,  near  the  "  Bite 
Hotel,"  the  names  do  not  suggest  a  high-toned 
locality,  but  there  was  some  high-toned  acting  by 
two  dwarfs,  respectively  thirty-nine  and  twenty- 
five  years  old,  and  thirty-six  and  thirty-two  in- 
ches in  height ;  that  is  not  a  very  great  tragedy 
altitude,  but  I  have  known  full  grown  actors, 
indeed,  there  are  some  before  the  public  now, 
whose  dramatic  measurement  in  popular  opinion 
does  not  exceed  thirty-six  inches,  and  yet  in 
their  own  eyes  they  are  giants. 

About  this  time,  I  became  acquainted  with  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  exemplars  of  precocious 
dramatic  talent  known  to  the  history  of  the  stage, 
Master  Joseph  Burke,  who  was  known  as  the 
"Irish  Roscius."  This  wonderful  boy  created 
a  furore  second  only  to  that  produced  by  the  fa- 
mous Master  Betty,  a  quarter  of  a  century  before. 
During  his  engagement  the  fashionable  and  lit- 
erary world  of  the  city  crowded  the  theatre,  and 
the  other  social  gatherings,  appropriate  to  the 
gay  season,  were  quite  neglected.  Unlike  his 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  89 

predecessor,  Master  Betty,  Master  Burke  did  not 
confine  his  juvenile  efforts  to  "  tragedy"  alone. 
His  varied  repertoire  included  "  Shylock,"  "  Dr. 
Pangloss,"  "  Sir  Abel  Handy,"  "  Richard  III," 
"Terry  O'Rourke,"  "Dennis  Brulgruddery," 
"  Hamlet,"  "  Dr.  Ollapod,"  "  Romeo,"  and  "  Young 
Norval,"  and  several  farces  in  which  he  played 
dual  parts.  The  list  bespeaks  the  versatility  of 
his  talents.  The  rush  for  seats  was  so  great  that 
the  management  resorted  to  the  auction  process 
in  their  disposal.  I  remember  the  young  gen- 
tleman's debut — his  acting  of  "  Young  Norval," 
and  the  professional  a-plomb  with  which  he  tap- 
ped his  violin  in  front  of  the  stage,  and  led  the 
orchestra  in  the  overture  to  "  Guy  Mannering." 
As  a  remarkable  lad,  Master  Burke  lives  in  the 
memory  of  those  who  saw  him,  but,  like  Master 
Betty,  as  he  grew  to  manhood  he  graduated  to 
forgetfulness ;  remarkable  precocious  talent  is 
rarely  prognostic  of  after  success.  Master  Betty 
drifted  to  obscurity  when  he  ceased  to  be  a  boy, 
and  within  a  short  time  Master  Burke  played  to 
empty  benches.  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  express 
the  opinion  of  one,  only  twenty  years  of  age,  and 
unfitted  at  that  time  to  speak  as  a  critic,  I  should 
say  that  Master  Burke's  comic  personations  were 
far  better  than  his  efforts  in  tragedy,  and  that  of 
his  serious  parts,  "  Young  Norval "  and  "  Romeo  " 
were  the  best.  Great  social  attention  was  paid 


90  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

to  him,  and  if  he  was  the  artist  in  the  theatre, 
he  was  the  boy  out  of  it,  and  coasted  his  sled  on 
the  common  with  a  boy's  zest. 

An  anecdote  is  told  of  Dr.  Burke,  his  father, 
which  illustrates  the  character  of  the  plain- 
spoken  Irishman.  During  his  professional  tour, 
Master  Burke  was  fulfilling  an  engagement  in  a 
city  which  chanced  to  be  visited  at  the  same  time 
by  a  clergyman  who  had  a  great  reputation  as  a 
revivalist.  This  gentleman  was  noted  for  his 
"  Boanerges  "  voice,  and  his  habit  of  introducing 
into  his  exhortations  and  prayers,  tropes  and 
similes  and  metaphors  quite  inconsistent  with 
the  gravity  of  his  subject.  The  popularity  of 
the  boy  operated  to  the  disadvantage  of  the 
preacher,  and  the  attendance  at  his  meetings  was 
correspondingly  decreased.  Dr.  Burke,  impelled 
by  curiosity,  attended  the  revival  service  one 
evening,  and  found  the  reverend  gentleman  "  la- 
boring "  in  great  excitement,  with  a  not  over- 
crowded congregation.  The  service  combined 
alternately  exhortation  and  prayer,  with  vocal 
music,  and  when  the  reverend  speaker  arose  to 
pray,  the  greater  portion  of  his  invocation  was 
in  behalf  of  "  Master  Burke."  "  Oh,  Lord  ! "  he 
shouted ;  oh ,  Lord !  have  pity  on  this  poor  little 
baby  sinner;  oh,  Lord!  send  down  into  his  little 
heart  Thy  grace  with  the  power  of  a  shower  of 
fifty-sixes."  ("  Fifty-sixes  "  were  the  standard 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  91 

weights  for  weighing  heavy  merchandise  in  the 
old-fashioned  beam-scales  of  that  day.)  "Oh, 
Lord !  prod  his  poor  little  soul  with  the  sharp  ox- 
goad  of  repentance  !  Oh,  Lord  !  cinch  his  little 
soul  tight  with  the  cinch  of  salvation,  and  take 
the  cinch-buckle  up  two  holes  more  !  Oh,  Lord  ! 
shake  his  little  soul  over  h — 1,  but  don't  let  him 
fall  in!" 

These  extraordinary  adjurations  moved  the 
risibles  of  a  portion  of  the  congregation,  but 
the  Doctor,  recognizing  the  sacredness  of  the 
place,  preserved  a  becoming  gravity  until  the 
preacher,  wiping  the  great  beads  of  perspiration 
from  his  face  and  sliding  his  coat-sleeves  half-way 
up  to  his  elbows,  started  in  on  his  exhortation, 
moved,  apparently,  not  by  the  spirit  of  mercy, 
but  of  wrath ;  descending  to  personality  in  his 
comments  on  the  character  and  motives  of  the 
father  of  the  boy,  declaring  him  to  be  an  extrav- 
agant old  voluptuary,  living  on  the  wages  of  sin, 
because  he  was  too  vicious  to  lead  a  sober  life, 
and  too  idle  and  lazy  to  work.  The  Doctor  kept 
his  temper  under  this  unbecoming  personal  at- 
tack, and  on  the  following  morning  waited  on 
the  preacher,  and  informing  him  who  he  was, 
and  that  he  had  been  present  at  his  meeting  on 
the  evening  previous,  added,  that  while  he  recog- 
nized and  admitted  the  reverend  gentleman's 
right  to  pray  for  his  son,  although  he  questioned 


92  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

the  efficacy  of  his  method,  he  positively  protest- 
ed against  being  made  the  mark  of  public  pulpit 
slander  himself,  and  assured  the  gentleman  that 
a  repetition  of  the  attack  would  be  met  by  per- 
sonal chastisement ;  to  which  the  other  replied, 
with  an  air  of  sanctimonious  humility — "  I  am 
but  a  weak  vessel,  and  if  it  be  the  Lord's  will  to 
send  me  to  the  bottom,  down  I  go ;  but  while  I 
float  I  will  fight  Satan,  and  in  the  cause  of  the 
Lord,  I  should  look  upon  a  horse-whipping  as  a 
crown  of  glory" — "Would  you?"  replied  the 
Doctor;  "I  shall  attend  your  meeting  to-night, 
and,  by  the  powers !  if  last  night's  programme  is 
repeated,  while  you  are  coming  out  of  the  church 
yozt'd  better  prepare  for  the  coronation!  "  The 
programme  was  not  repeated. 

Mr.  T.  D.  Rice,  known  to  the  world  as  "  Jim 
Crow  Rice,"  first  appeared  in  Boston,  in  1832, 
at  the  "  Warren  Theatre;"  his  prototype  in  the 
famous  song  and  dance,  which  led  the  way  to 
fame  and  fortune,  was  an  old  slave  employed  as  an 
hostler  in  a  stable  in  Memphis  or  Nashville,  and 
Rice's  imitation  of  this  old  darkey,  known  to  all 
the  citizens,  was  an  instantaneous  success.  The 
peculiarity  of  the  song,  so  utterly  unlike  any- 
thing that  had  preceded  it,  caught  the  public 
fancy  in  every  town  in  the  Union,  and  brought 
forth  a  host  of  imitators,  North  and  South. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  93 

Prior  to  Mr.  Rice's  advent,  our  dusky  "  man 
and  brother  "  had  small  representation  in  the 
acted  drama.  In  tragedy  "  Zanga  "  and  "  Othello," 
were  almost  alone,  and  these  were  Moors  and 
not  negroes.  In  the  comic  drama  I  can  recall 
only  "  Mungo  "  in  the  "  Padlock  ;  " ."  Sambo," 
in  one  of  Reynold's  comedies,  the  name  of  which 
is  forgotten,  and  two  or  three  more ;  but  Rice's 
success  started  the  burnt-cork  drama  into  a  fitful 
existence  which  is  even  now  hardly  closed.  Most 
of  the  professors  of  the  new  negro  drama,  drifted 
into  minstrelsy  ;  but  few  of  them  possessed  a  tithe 
of  Rice's  talent ;  they  were  minstrels,  not  actors  ; 
he  was  an  actor,  and  a  rare  good  one ;  his  play- 
ing in  some  of  the  ethiopianized  farces  of  the 
day  was  the  very  quintessence  of  humor,  and  in 
some  musical  pieces  written  for  him,  notably  in 
a  grandiose  burlesque  of  the  opera  of  "  Fra 
Diavolo,"  entitled  "  Bone-squash  Diavolo,"  his 
bravura  singing  of  "  Smile  my  fortune,"  and  the 
largamente  style  in  which  he  rendered — "  Oh, 
I'm  sorry  that  I  sold  myself  to  de  debil,"  were 
superb.  Mr.  Rice  visited  England,  and  was  a 
great  success  in  London.  He  married  a  Miss 
Gladstone,  a  member  of  the  theatrical  family  of 
that  name,  but  not  herself  attached  to  the  stage. 

I  played  many  times  with  Mr.  Rice  in  my 
early  Boston  days.  He  was  a  genial,  well- 
informed  gentleman,  with  a  most  affable  temper, 


94  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

which  made  him  a  charming  companion.  His 
generosity  and  liberality  were  not  conducive  to 
the  accumulation  of  great  wealth.  His  latter 
days  were  clouded  with  ill  health,  and  fortune 
did  not  smile  upon  him  towards  life's  close ;  but 
he  was  ever  and  always  a  man,  a  true  man,  and 
his  memory  is  fragrant  with  those  who  knew  him 
in  life,  for  the  true  gentleman  he  was. 

The  evening  of  November  3,  1831,  is  remem- 
bered by  me  as  being  the  first  appearance  of  a 
gentleman  whose  advent,  it  was  feared,  would  be 
attended  with  serious  riots.  Mr.  Anderson,  the 
vocalist,  and  his  lady,  formerly  Miss  Bartolozzi, 
who  played  " Henry  Bertram"  and  " Julia  Man- 
nering,"  in  "Guy  Mannering."  Mr.  Anderson 
had  been  guilty  of  some  indiscreet  expressions 
with  respect  to  America  and  Americans.  There 
were  two  parties  in  the  house,  but  the  friends  of 
Anderson  were  in  the  majority,  and  things  went 
on  in  a  chaotic  manner  until  the  piece  was  nearly 
over,  when  the  malcontents  were  re-inforced  by 
the  crowd  which  burst  in  from  the  street.  "  Fire  ! 
Fire ! "  shouted  the  mob,  as  some  of  them  leaped 
the  orchestra  railing,  and  Signor  Ostinelli  and 
his  fellow  musicians  made  a  precipitate  retreat. 
It  looked  very  serious  for  a  time,  and  poor  An- 
derson was  frightened  out  of  his  wits.  We 
squeezed  him  out  of  the  green-room  window,  be- 
tween the  wall  and  a  massive  stationary  lattice, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  95 

which  could  not  be  removed,  on  to  a  shed,  and  he 
retreated  to  his  hotel ;  some  of  the  rioters  were 
arrested.  Anderson  appeared  subsequently  for 
one  or  two  nights,  but  was  treated  with  public 
neglect. 

Frederick  S.  Hill — old  Bostoniaiis  remember 
him — was  a  Boston  boy,  newspaper  man,  actor, 
newspaper  man  again,  literateur,  critic,  and  es- 
sayist, and  for  many  years  writer  and  manager 
for  Mr.  Pelby,  of  the  Warren  Theatre.  He  is 
one  of  my  memories  of  1832.  He  made  his  debut 
as  "  Romeo." 

A  pretty,  new  theatre  had  been  erected  in  the 
city  of  Portland,  Maine,  and  in  the  summer  of 
1831  it  was  opened  by  Mr.  Alexander  M.  Wilson. 
I  was  a  member  of  his  company;  Mr.  Archer 
was  the  leading  man,  and  became,  as  in  Boston, 
a  great  favorite.  Mr.  Forrest  was  engaged,  and 
opened  as  "  Damon,"  and  as  Mr.  Wilson,  the 
manager,  desired  to  play  "  Pythias,"  Mr.  Archer 
was  persuaded  to  take  the  subordinate  part  of 
"  Dionysius."  Up  to  this  time,  Mr.  A.  had  been 
able  to  keep  his  demon  under  control,  with  one 
or  two  slight  lapses,  but,  alas  !  on  that  fatal  first 
night  of  Forrest,  he  had  yielded  to  the  tempter, 
and  came  to  the  theatre  utterly  demoralized.  In 
the  important  senate-scene  which  occurs  early  in 
the  play,  when  called  upon  to  assume  regal  pow- 
er, he  staggered  to  the  chair,  sat  oscillating  upon 


96  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

it,  and  blundered  out  an  incoherent  mass  of  non- 
sense instead  of  the  text  of  the  author,  and  final- 
ly, instead  of  advancing  down  the  stage  with 
soldierly  mien  and  addressing  Forrest,  as  he 
should  have  done,  with — 

' '  We  now, 

Assuming  our  own  right, 

Command  from  this,  that  was  the  senate  house, 
Those  rash,  tumultuous  men,  who  still  would  tempt 
The  city's  peace  with  wild  vociferation 
And  vain  contentious  rivalry  !     Begone  ! ' ' 

he  reeled  down  to  where  Forrest  stood,  fell  on 
his  knees  before  him,  and  with  stammering,  un- 
certain utterance,  said:  u  Oh,  Damon,  go  off! 
We  don't  want  you  here — get  out  of  this  Senate 
House — do  go  off — go  away — go  away  !"  Forrest 
looked  at  him  with  an  expression  that  cannot  be 
described,  but  uttered  not  a  word.  Knowing  Mr. 
Forrest  as  we  did,  it  was  a  matter  of  wonder 
among  the  actors  that  he  did  not  burst  into  one 
of  his  explosions  of  wrath.  Archer  staggered 
up  the  s^age,  and  "Philistius"  and  the  rest  got 
through  the  remainder  of  the  scene  as  best  they 
could.  I  do  not  think  that  Mr.  Forrest  ever  for- 
gave him.  In  a  professional  life  of  more  than 
half  a  century,  that  was  one  of  the  most  pitiable 
scenes  I  ever  witnessed  on  the  stage. 

But  that  was  not  the  only  mishap  that  Mr. 
Forrest  met  with  in  that  short  engagement.  It 
was  the  last  night  but  one,  and  the  prize  tragedy 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  97 

of  "  Metamora  "  was  announced  for  the  first  and 
only  time.  There  was  a  band  of,  Penobscot  In- 
dians on  a  basket-making  tour  encamped  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  and  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Wil- 
son that  the  appearance  of  these  red  men  in  an 
Indian  play  would  be  an  additional  attraction, 
and  he  proposed  the  matter  to  Mr.  Forrest. 
Forrest  looked  on  it  with  disfavor,  remarking 
that  such  untrained  help  generally  marred  the 
performance  instead  of  improving  it,  but  he 
finally  gave  a  reluctant  consent  to  the  scheme ; 
and  so  it  was  announced  that  the  management 
had  at  great  expense  engaged  a  band  of  Penob- 
scot warriors  to  assist  in  the  performance,  and 
that  they  would  appear  as  attendants  on  Meta- 
mora, and  dance  in  their  native  costume  the  war 
dance  of  their  tribe. 

Indian  nomenclature  is  always  a  puzzle,  but 
the  names  of  those  red  men  were  more  than 
usually  puzzling ;  they  were  all  printed  in  the 
play-bill  in  type  as  large  as  Forrest's ;  I  can 
recall  but  two  of  them,  "Jo  Sawkikks"  and  "  Saul 
Ninepence."  The  night  came,  and  the  house 
was  crammed.  They  had  been  told  what  to  do 
at  rehearsal,  but  seemed  to  have  but  a  vague 
idea  of  what  little  was  expected  of  them  apart 
from  the  war-dance  ;  the  only  response  to  every- 
thing said  being  either  silence  or  "Ugh!"  In 
the  fourth  act,  after  being  addressed  by  Meta- 


98  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

mora  in  a  long  war-harangue,  they  were  to  circle 
round  the  stage,  with  their  weapons  brandished, 
(while  Metamora  stood  in  the  centre,)  and  go 
finally  off,  leaving  him  alone. 

When  the  scene  was  reached  at  night,  before 
Mr.  Forrest  had  uttered  three  lines,  they  started 
their  war-dance  in  earnest,  breaking  in  on  his 
speech  with  a  most  unearthly  yell,  and  circling 
round  the  stage  with  a  series  of  antics  ten  times 
more  violent  than  in  their  morning  practice, 
absolutely  refusing  to  go  off.  They  had  been 
especially  told  not  to  touch  Mr.  Forrest,  but 
whether  they  disregarded  the  order  wilfully,  or 
whether  in  the  excitement  the  latent  savage  had 
become  aroused  within  them,  I  do  not  know. 
They  went  for  the  great  chief,  tomahawk  in  hand, 
going  through  the  scalping  movement  and  bran- 
dishing their  weapons  before  his  face,  and  pulling 
him  about  in  the  most  indiscriminate  manner. 
Forrest  shook  them  off  with  fury,  and  shouted, 
"  Go  off!"  but  they  paid  no  attention,  and  started 
into  another  mad  dance ;  Forrest  yelled  louder, 
"  Go  off!"  but  still  they  kept  it  up,  yelling  louder 
and  dancing  wilder  than  ever.  In  vain  Forrest 
shouted  "Go  off!"  in  vain  the  prompter  bawled 
"Come  off!"  in  vain  he  endeavored  to  signal 
them  to  get  up  the  stage,  until  Forrest  in  wrath 
howled  out  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
above  the  din,  "  Drop  the  curtain !"  and  the  cur- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  99 

tain  came  down  with  a  thud,  nearly  crushing  two 
of  the  red  men  and  leaving  half  their  number 
outside. 

When  the  curtain  touched  the  stage,  Forrest 
eaten  up  with  anger,  shouted  to  the  prompter, 
"  Where's  that  other  Indian  ?  Where's  Wilson  ? 
Send  him  here !" 

Mr.  Wilson  was  of  a  spare,  muscular  frame, 
with  an  exceedingly  swarthy  complexion,  and 
his  face  might  warrant  the  supposition  that 
there  was  a  strain  of  Indian  blood  in  his  veins. 
Wilson  came  upon  the  stage — he  had  been  en- 
gaged with  the  prompter  in  the  vain  effort  to  get 
rid  of  his  recruits,  and  was  in  an  ill-temper  him- 
self. "So,  Wilson!"  said  Forrest;  "a  pretty 
show  you've  made  of  my  play,  by  God !  I  told 
you  how  'twould  be,  but  you  were  full  of  your 

d d  Jo.  Sawmills  and  Paul  Tuppences  !  You 

had  better  close  this  theatre,  and  go  off  on  the 
war-path  with  your  tribe,  and  take  Archer  along 
with  you !"  And  so  saying,  he  strode  off  to  his 
dressing-room.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  not 
forgiven  poor  Archer.  As  he  openly  avowed 
himself,  Mr.  Forrest  was  indeed  "  a  good  hater" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Barnes  came  to  Portland  for 
a  few  nights.  Old  Jack  Barnes  used  to  say  that 
he  traveled  as  an  antidote  to  his  wife ;  that  she 
.always  set  the  people  to  crying,  while  it  was  his 
business  to  send  them  home  with  a  laugh,  and 


TOO  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

certainly  he  never  failed  to  do  that.  I  believe 
that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Barnes  were  a  very  happy 
couple,  but  they  didn't  always  pull  exactly 
together  in  the  matrimonial  team.  What  mar- 
ried couples  do  ?  One  morning,  old  Jack  came  to 
the  theatre  with  a  cloud  on  his  brow,  and  was 
met  by  Mr.  Wilson  with,  "  Hello  Jack,  good 
morning !  How  are  you  ?  How's  your  wife  ? 
Ain't  she  coming  to  rehearsal  ?  "  "I  don't 
know,"  moodily  replied  Barnes.  "  Don't  know ; 
havn't  you  seen  her  this  morning?"  'Yes," 
said  Barnes.  "  And  didn't  she  tell  you  ?  "  queried 
Wilson.  "  No,"  growled  Jack.  "  We're  hostile- 
we  don't  speak,  we  correspond"  This  answer 
given  with  the  peculiar  tone,  and  ludicrous  ex- 
pression of  the  mouth,  the  corner  of  which 
Barnes  would  draw  down  till  the  opening  in  his 
face  resembled  a  pothook,  created  general  laugh- 
ter ;  in  the  midst  of  which  Mrs.  Barnes  came 
upon  the  stage,  and  smilingly  approached  her 
husband ;  the  cloud  on  his  face  vanished  at  once, 
and  he  met  her  in  the  same  cordial  manner. 
Every  one  could  see  that  Jack  and  his  wife  were 
not  hostile. 

Mr.  Alexander  M.  Wilson,  of  whom  I  have 
frequently  spoken,  was  a  good  actor.  He  played 
tragedy  with  judgment,  and  was  an  admirable 
personator  of  Frenchmen.  He  was  the  "Jean 
Jacques  Frisac  "  of  the  spectacle  of  "Paris  and 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  101 

London,"  which  had  a  phenomenal  run  for  those 
days ;  and  his  performance  of  "  Mons.  Morbleau," 
was  praised  by  those  who  had  seen  Matthews 
in  the  character.  I  never  met  Mr.  Wilson  after 
the  close  of  that  pleasant  summer  season,  fifty- 
five  years  ago. 

Among  my  remembrances  of  the  following 
year,  the  production  of  the  "  Brigand,"  is  fore- 
most. The  performance  of  the  hero,  "  Allesandro 
Massaroni,"  by  Mr.  Wallack,  was  a  superb  illus- 
tration of  the  romantic  drama,  his  singing  of 
"  Love's  Ritornella  "  popularized  the  air ;  and  it 
was  played  on  every  piano,  and  whistled  by  every 
boy  in  the  city.  Another  great  event  was  the 
appearance  of  the  world-famous  u  Ravel  Family," 
the  hero  of  the  organization  was  "  Gabriel."  For 
a  third  of  a  century  he  was  almost  continuously 
before  the  public,  and  in  all  the  mysteries  and 
wonders  of  French  pantomime  he  was  a  perfect 
master  of  his  art.  He  had  no  "  rival  in  his  day," 
and  I  think  110  superior  in  ours. 

I  call  up  another  pleasant  "  memory  "  of  one 
whose  name  is  familiar  in  every  quarter  of  the 
globe  where  the  English  language  is  spoken — 
the  author  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  In  the 
month  of  April,  a  complimentary  testimonial  was 
tendered  to  John  Howard  Payne,  who  had  just 
returned  to  the  city  of  his  early  triumphs  after 
an  absence  of  twenty  years.  How  freshly  come 


iO2  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

back  to  me  the  events  of  that  pleasant  night,  the 
address  of  welcome,  from  the  pen  of  Park  Ben- 
jamin, spoken  by  Mrs.  Barrett,  closing  with  these 
lines — 

"  A  change  of  scene — the  nearest  and  the  last, 
We  need  no  spirit  to  reveal  the  past ; 
For,  lo  !   'tis  present,  and  before  you  now, 
The  warrior-child  with  sword  and  plumed  brow. 
The  student,  bending  o'er  the  written  page; 
The  actor,  proudly  marching  on  the  stage ; 
The  author,  bringing  forms  to  life  and  light, 
Which  here  reflected  you  may  see  to-night, 
At  length  has  come — Heaven  grant  no  more  to  roam — 
To  his  own  native  land,  his  '  Home,  Sweet  Home. '  ' 

The  performance  consisted  entirely  of  selections 
from  the  various  plays  of  which  Mr.  Payne  was 
the  author.  At  the  close  of  the  address,  the  or- 
chestra struck  up  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  and 
amid  loud  cheering  Mr.  Payne  came  forward, 
almost  powerless  to  speak ;  but  he  rallied,  and 
made  a  most  graceful  and  feeling  speech. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Mr.  Charles  Kemble  —  Miss  Fanny  Kemble  —  Mr.  Charles 
Eaton  —  The  Lowell  Theatre  —  Arrest  and  Trial  —  Remark- 
able Evidence  of  Mr.  Frank  Kenny  —  Mr.  Tyrone  Power  — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood—  Mr.  John  Still—  Mr.  James  Sheridan 
Knowles  —  His  Defense  of  the  Stage  —  Actor  and  Clergy- 
man —  His  Tomb  —  Centennial  of  Washington's  Birth  — 
Miss  Hamilton  —  Charles  Matthews  —  '  '  Shakespeare  a 
Scotsman"  —  Miss  Charlotte  Cushman  —  Her  Fondness  for 
Male  Characters  —  Miss  Watson—  John  Reeve  —  The  Vet- 
eran Dowton  —  Mr.  'James  E.  Murdoch. 


season  made  me  acquainted  with  two 
A     actors,  whose  names  are  stamped  inefface-* 
ably  on  the  pages  of  Stage  history  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic  —  Charles  Kemble  and  his  accom- 
plished daughter. 

Mr.  Kemble  opened  in  "  Hamlet,"  and  on  the 
following  night  Miss  Frances  Anne  Kemble 
appeared  as  "Bianca"  in  Milman's  tragedy  of 
"  Fazio."  Mr.  Kemble  did  not  much  startle  the 
public  with  his  "Hamlet"  or  "  Beverly,"  but 
when  they  saw  him  in  "  Mercutio"  and  "  Bene- 
dick," "  Don  Felix"  and  "  Young  Mirabel,"  their 


104  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

admiration  was  unbounded.  He  was  at  that 
time  more  than  sixty  years  of  age,  but  his  high- 
comedy  personations  were  infused  with  such  a 
perfect  finish  and  airy  grace  that  all  acknowl- 
edged his  excellence.  He  had  the  rare  judgment 
of  knowing  exactly  where  to  stop  in  the  most 
highly-colored  scenes,  and  never  crossed  the  line 
of  demarcation  between  the  delicate  and  the 
gross.  This  was  evinced  especially  in  his  play- 
ing of  the  tipsy  scene  of  "Don  Felix"  in  the 
comedy  of  the  "  Wonder,"  where  he  has  hur- 
riedly to  assume  female  attire;  he  kept  the  audi- 
ence in  wild  mirth,  and  yet  there  was  nothing  in 
his  fine  management  of  the  almost  dangerous 
scene  to  call  up  the  shadow  of  a  blush  on  the 
most  modest  cheek.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
his  "  Young  Mirabel  "  in  the  "  Inconstant." 

Miss  Fanny  Kemble  flashed  into  popular  favor 
at  once,  and  appeared  in  many  of  the  roles  which 
were  made  famous  by  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Siddons. 
The  engagement  was  brilliant,  almost  beyond 
example.  "All  the  world,"  to  use  a  popular 
phrase,  came  from  far  and  near  to  see  the 
"Kembles."  Mr.  Kemble's  deportment  in  the 
theatre  was  exceedingly  courteous,  and  conversa- 
tion used  to  flow  freely  and  pleasantly  in  the 
green-room.  The  subject  of  politics  came  under 
discussion  one  day,  and  in  speaking  of  an  elec- 
tion which  had  just  been  decided,  he  laughingly 
remarked : 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  105 

u  And  now,  Mr.  L,eman,  as  you've  jnst  decided 
this  thing,  you'll  go  to  work  within  six  months 
to  /^//-decide  it  again.  What's  the  reason  that  in 
America  you  are  never  willing  to  let  things 
remain  fixed,  as  you  call  it  ?  Just  as  soon  as 
you  get  them  fixed  all  right  you  begin  to  make 
a  change,  and  do  it  all  over  again.  Why  are 
you  never  satisfied  ?"  To  which  I  replied  :  "  I 
think,  Mr.  Kemble,  that  on  the  whole,  our  people 
are  satisfied — satisfied  in  the  conviction,  that  if 
afo- satisfied  it  is  within  their  power  to  abate  the 
dissatisfaction."  He  paused  thoughtfully  for  a 
moment,  and  then  said,  "  Well,  I  don't  know, 
perhaps  they  are  right." 

I  remember  at  another  time  the  just  indigna- 
tion he  expressed  at  the  attack  of  a  certain  Lieu- 
tenant Randolph  (I  think  that  was  the  name)  on 
the  person  of  President  Jackson — the  circum- 
stance chanced  to  be  alluded  to  as  we  stood  behind 
the  scenes — and  Mr.  K.  vehemently  exclaimed, 
"  The  scoundrel !  If  I  had  been  present  when 
he  offered  such  an  indignity  to  that  noble  old 
man  I  would  have  brained  him." 

During  the  engagement  of  the  Kembles,  a 
young  native  of  Boston — who,  ten  years  later, 
met  with  a  painful  death,  at  the  early  age  of 
thirty-three  years — came  prominently  before  the 
public.  Charles  H.  Eaton  was  my  personal 
friend  and  a  man  of  brilliant  promise.  During 


106  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

his  short  career  he  achieved  a  wonderful  reputa- 
tion in  the  highest  walks  of  tragedy,  and  had  he 
lived  would  have  won  a  permanent  place  in  the 
temple  of  histrionic  fame. 

About  this  date  a  little  theatre  had  been 
erected  in  Lowell,  and  Mr.  Barrett  was  invited  to 
open  it  for  a  short  season.  There  had  been  con- 
siderable opposition  among  the  townspeople,  and 
an  application  for  a  license  to  play  was-  refused 
by  the  authorities  ;  it  was  an  awkward  dilemma — 
the  house  was  ready,  the  company  engaged,  the 
play  advertised,  and  under  a  guarantee  of  some 
prominent  gentlemen  of  the  town,  to  see  him 
financially  unscathed,  Mr.  Barrett  resolved  to 
raise  the  curtain. 

There  was  no  interruption  of  the  performance, 

1  as  was  feared  ;  but  the  next  day  George  Barrett 

and  George  Andrews  were  summoned  to  appear 

before  Justice ,  and  answer  to  the  charge 

of  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  in  acting  with- 
out a  license,  at  the  Justice's  Court  in  the  town 
and  county  aforesaid.  When  the  case  was  called, 
the  little  room  was  crowded,  for  the  people  had 
taken  sides,  and  much  feeling  was  being  evinced. 
The  defendant's  counsel  moved  an  adjournment 
to  a  more  convenient  and  larger  room,  which  the 
magistrate  granted,  against  the  wish  of  the  prose- 
cution ;  and  the  afternoon  session  of  the  Court 
was  held  in  the  Town  Hall.  By  this  time  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  107 

whole  town   knew   what  was   going  on,  and  the 
hall  was  full  of  spectators. 

The  first  witness  called  by  the  prosecution  was 
"  Mr.  Frank  Kenny."  Kenny  was  a  middle-aged 
man  with  thin  legs,  a  somewhat  protuberant  ab- 
domen, a  rubicund  nose  and  very  bright  eyes. 
He  was  an  actor  of  "  little  business,"  as  it  was 
termed,  and  being  a  fine  penman,  inproved  his 
moderate  salary  by  copying  for  the  theatre.  He 
had  imperturbable  good  humor,  and  was  much 
addicted  to  singing  snatches  of  doggerel  songs — 
the  chorus  of  one,  which  appeared  to  be  his 
favorite,  running  something  in  this  wise — 

"  Shoul,  shoul  !  shoul,  go-rool  ! 
Cut  straw — banyan  !  Jump  Jim  Crow,"  etc.,  etc. 

On  taking  the  witness  stand,  the  first  question 
by  the  prosecuting  attorney  was — "  Mr.  Kenny, 
were  you  in  the  theatre  on  the  night  of  the  day 
mentioned  in  the  complaint  ?  "  Kenny — "  I  was, 
sir."  Attorney — "  Where  was  you  standing  ?  " 
Kenny — "  I  wasn't  standing  anywhere,  I  was 
sitting  down."  Attorney — "  Where  ?  "  Kenny — 
"  In  the  U.  E.  O.  P."  Attorney—"  What  does 
the  U.  E.  O.  P.  mean?  "  Kenny—"  Upper  en- 
trance, opposite  prompt."  Attorney — "  Opposite 
what?"  Kenny—"  Opposite  the  P.  S."  At- 
torney— "  Oh  then,  P.  S.  means,  I  suppose— 
Kenny — "  Sometimes  L.  H.  and  sometimes  R.  H" 


io8  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Attorney — "  And  those  initials  mean,  I  suppose, 
right  hand  and  left  hand."  Kenny — "  Yes." 
<(  And  which  side  were  you  on,  Mr.  Kenny  ?  " 
asked  the  counsel.  "  I  was  on  the  right  hand 
side,"  replied  Kenny.  "  Oh  then,"  said  the  at- 
torney, "  the  right  hand  side  is  always  the  prompt 
side."  "  No,  it  ain't,"  answered  Kenny  ;  "  some- 
times the  left  hand  is  the  prompt  side."  "  Well, 
well,"  retorted  the  attorney,  becoming  nettled,, 
"  either  the  left  hand  side  or  the  right  hand  side 
is  always  the  prompt  side;  ain't  it?"  "  No,  it 
ain't,  "  said  Kenny.  "  In  the  French  theatre  in 
New  Orleans,  they've  cut  a  hole  in  the  stage,  and 
prompt  from  the  middle." 

The  counsel,  much  annoyed,  appealed  to  the 
Court ;  the  Court  didn't  seem  to  think  that  the 
witness  was  in  contempt,  but  told  him  to  confine 
himself  to  simple  answers,  and  the  examination 
proceeded.  Counsel — "  Did  you  see  Mr.  Barrett 
on  the  stage  on  the  night  in  question  ?  "  Kenny — 
"  I  did  not."  Counsel — "  Did  you  see  Mr.  An- 
drews ?"  Kenny — "  I  saw  a  man  that  might 
have  been  Mr.  Andrews."  Counsel — "  Might 
have  been  ?  Did  you  see  his  face  ?  "  Kenny— 
"  He  was  looking  the  other  way."  Counsel — 

'  Well,  was  he  like  him  in  person  ?  was  he  of 
the  size  of  Mr.  Andrews  ?  What  is  Mr.  Andrews' 
size?"  Kenny — "  He's  .of  different  sizes." 

Counsel — "  Different    sizes  ?  "      Kenny — "  Yes  ; 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  109 

when  he  plays  '  Falstaff,'  he's  fat ;  when  he 
plays  '  Goliah  Spiderlimb,'  he's  lean."  Counsel — 
very  angry — "  Come,  come,  Mr.  Witness,  don't 
prevaricate  ;  you  have  already  testified  that  you 
saw  a  man  who  looked  like  Mr.  Andrews  in  the 
play  that  night."  Kenny — "  No,  I  didn't ; "  you 
didn't  ask  me  that  question,  it  was  before  the 
play ;  I  went  away  before  the  play  began." 
Counsel — "  Oh,  you  went  away  to  avoid  giving 
testimony  in  this  case,  I  suppose  ?  "  Kenny — 
"  No,  I  didn't ;  I  went  home  to  practice  my  song." 
Counsel — "  Your  song,  what  song  ?  "  Kenny — 
"  Shoul,  go-rool ;  "  did  you  never  hear  it  ?  this 
is  the  chorus — 

1 '  Shoul  !  Shoul  !  Shoul  go-rool  ! 
Shoul  a  poppa,  poppa,  roppa,  loppa,  poppa,  kool, 
Cut  straw,  banyan  !  Jump  Jim  Crow, 
The  Lawyer  leaves  Court,  a  courting  to  go  !  " 

The  Court  and  spectators  exploded  in  a  roar 
of  laughter  at  this  doggerel,  and  Mr.  Frank 
Kenny  was  excused  from  any  further  examina- 
tion. 

The  prosecution  proved  their  case,  and  after 
two  or  three  performances  the  fine  was  paid  and 
the  theatre  closed. 

My  next  manager  was  Thomas  Barry,  Esq. 
This  gentleman,  for  a  long  time  connected  with 
the  Park  Theatre,  organized  a  strong  company, 


no  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  which  my  old  friend  Wm.  Rufus  Blake  was  a 
member. 

Tyrone  Power — more  often  called  Paddy  Power 
— was  one  of  the  first  stars  introduced  to  the 
public  by  the  new  manager.  In  the  performance 
of  the  Irish  gentleman  Mr.  Power  was  eminently 
happy ;  and  his  low  Irishmen,  though  not  so 
boisterous  as  those  of  most  of  his  successors,  were 
full  of  a  rich  humor  and  buoyant  with  merriment. 
What  an  eye  he  had,  and  how  he  used  it.  Until 
we  got  accustomed  to  Mr.  Power's  manner,  there 
was  a  degree  of  embarrassment  in  acting  with 
him,  arising  from  his  habit  of  repeating  sotto-voce 
the  speech  of  the  other  party  to  the  dialogue ;  it 
rather  annoyed  one  to  have  a  running  accompa- 
niment of  his  own  words  in  a  minor  key.  Mr. 
Power  owned  that  at  times  he  was  quite  unaware 
of  doing  it.  Mr.  Power  was  hardly  what  could 
be  called  fair  with  respect  to  his  professional  asso- 
ciates, and  would  hurry  up  or  hurry  over  anybody 
or  anything  to  make  his  point ;  at  times  this 
might  be  deemed  excusable,  but  sometimes  it 
was  felt  to  be  a  hardship  by  those  who  acted  with 
him.  In  the  opinion  of  wise  judges,  Mr.  Power 
was  the  finest  representative  of  Irish  character 
ever  seen  on  the  American  Stage.  Mr.  Power 
was  a  passenger  on  board  the  steamship  "  Presi- 
dent," lost  at  sea. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  1 1 1 

This  year  introduced  to  the  public  two  singers 
who  at  once  eclipsed,  if  they  did  not  extinguish, 
all  other  musical  celebrities  yet  seen  in  America 
— the  "  Woods."  They  appeared  in  an  English 
version  of  Rossini's  "  Ceuerentola"  Mrs.  Wood 
reached  the  highest  perfection  that  anyone  had 
dared  to  imagine,  and  her  husband  astonished  all 
by  the  fluency  of  his  execution  and  the  sweet  and 
mellow  tones  of  his  voice.  Every  opera  in  which 
they  appeared  won  them  new  triumphs.  Two 
years  later  they  re-appeared,  when  Bellini's  opera 
of  "  La  Sonnambula"  was  produced.  It  literally 
took  the  town  "by  storm."  Mrs.  Wood's  singing 
in  "Amina"  made  the  character  difficult,  almost 
impossible,  for  her  successors.  They  came  again 
in  1836,  and  once  again  in  1840.  The  gentle- 
man's voice  had  improved  in  the  interval  of  time, 
the  lady's  had  fallen  off  in  certainty  and  volume ; 
but  those  who  heard  them  at  that  time  will 
tell  the  listener  that  nothing  like  the  duets 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  have  ever  been  heard  in 
America. 

Mr.  Wood  had  a  hasty  i  and  petulant  temper 
that  kept  him  in  a  state  of  chronic  warfare  with 
the  press,  and  a  sharp  Yorkshire  idea  of  the  value 
of  money.  He  got  his  deposit  out  of  the  United 
States  bank  just  in  time,  and  by  a  clever  device, 
got  rid  of  his  stock  in  the  same  institution  just 


ii2  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

in  time,  and  on  his  return  to  Bngland  became  a 
farmer,  settling  near  York. 

Mrs.  Wood  was  the  Miss  Paton,  whose  portrait 
as  "  Mandane,"  in  Dr.  Arne's  opera  of  "Arta- 
xerxes,"  may  be  seen  in  the  old  books.  She  then 
became  the  wife  of  Lord  William  Lennox,  and 
a  separation  taking  place,  was  espoused  by  Mr. 
Wood.  Mrs.  Wood  was  very  amiable  in  deport- 
ment ;  indeed,  she  had  an  excessive  familiarity  of 
manner  at  times,  that  some  what  detracted  from  her 
personal  dignity,  and  was  as  fond  of  flattery  and 
praise  as  an  over-indulged  child ;  talking  during 
the  performance,  when  not  on  the  stage,  indis- 
criminately, with  everybody,  and  showing  her 
jewels  to  all  who  would  look  at  them.  As  thus: 
"  See  ;  ain't  it  pretty — this  diamond  necklace  ;  it 
was  given  to  me  by  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire ; 
it  cost  three  thousand  pounds."  Or,  "  Sir  Some- 
thing Somebody  gave  me  this  brooch  ;  I  think  it's 
charming  ;  don't  you  ?"  She  always  had  a  clus- 
ter of  "ballet-girls  "  and  "  stage-hands "  around 
her,  behind  the  scenes.  Certainly,  this  peculiar 
trait  of  character  in  Mrs.  Wood  was  pleasanter 
than  the  imperious,  "  don't-touch-me  "  manner  of 
some  of  the  queens  of  the  lyric  and  tragic  stage ; 
but  she  wasn't  altogether  dignified.  On  her  re- 
turn to  England,  Mrs.  Wood  entered  a  convent, 
and  a  few  years  after  re-appeared  on  the  stage,  in 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  113 

Dublin ;  I  do  not  know  anything  of  her  subse- 
quent career. 

I  have  mentioned  that  my  first  stage  manager, 
Mr.  Blake,  was  attached  to  the  company,  and  re- 
call a  funny  scene  in  which  he  figured,  with  Mr. 
Still.  This  gentleman  had  been  engaged  as 
"  Musical  Walking  Gentleman."  He  had  been 
quite  a  singer  in  his  day,  but  his  day  had  gone 
by ;  he  was  a  man  very  slow  in  his  movements, 
with  a  rather  stolid  expression ;  had  not  an 
amiable  temper,  and  objected  to  playing  any  part 
that  had  not  a  song  in  it.  He  had  been  cast  for 
u  Willoughby,"  in  the  comedy  of  the  "  Dramat- 
ist," which  is  a  very  ungracious  part,  but  a  song 
was  introduced  to  mollify  his  feelings.  Blake 
was  the  "  Floriville  "  of  the  play,  a  part  which 
he  played  with  delightful  spirit  and  abandon. 
In  one  scene  of  the  comedy,  "  Floriville  "  cir- 
cumvents "  Willoughby  "  in  some  dishonorable 
advances  and  a  duel  is  the  result.  Mr.  Still  had 
forgotten  his  rapier,  and  when  challenged  felt  for 
his  sword,  and  not  finding  it,  said  to  Blake, 
"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I've  forgotten  my  sword," 
and  drawing  towards  the  side  of  the  stage,  called 
out  in  a  subdued  tone  to  the  property-man, 
"  Bring  me  a  sword."  Blake  pressed  his  chal- 
lenge, rather  enjoying  Still's  annoyance,  and 
Still  kept  edging  towards  the  side-scene,  repeat- 
ing, "  Bring  me  a  sword,"  when  suddenly,  from 


H4  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

the  wing,  there  was  thrust  forth  r  in  view  of  the 
audience,  the  basket-handle  of  a  fighting-sword. 
At  the  sight,  Still  was  himself  again,  and,  ex- 
claiming, "  Ah  !  lucky  circumstance  ;  some  one 
has  left  a  sword  sticking  in  a  tree,"  he  threw 
himself  into  position  and  cried  out,  with  a  shout, 
"  Come  on!" 

When  off  the  stage,  Blake  commiserated  with 
poor  Still,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  mock  sympathy, 
"  My  boy,  I  was  so  sorry  for  you ;  I  didn't  know 
what  you  would  do.  I  thought  yotfd  sing  a 
song" 

In  1834  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  the  ac- 
quaintance of  James  Sheridan  Knowles.  Mr. 
Knowles  opened  as  "  Master  Walter,"  and  played 
the  heroes  of  his  own  pieces  with  earnestness 
and  spirit.  His  figure  was  not  of  the  heroic 
mould,  and  his  tragedy  had  a  touch  of  the  brogue. 
His  reception  was  a  very  warm  one ;  it  was  not 
a  usual  thing  in  that  day  for  authors  to  appear 
in  their  own  dramas.  Macklin  and  Colley  Cib- 
ber  had  passed  away,  and  Boucicault  had  not  yet 
come,  and  I  think  the  attractiveness  of  Mr. 
Knowles  was  increased  by  his  dual  character  of 
author  and  actor.  As  a  dramatist,  Knowles 
stands  in  the  front  rank ;  as  an  actor,  if  not 
great,  he  was  pleasing ;  as  a  man  he  was  as  warm 
and  genial  as  the  summer  sun.  I  cannot  recon- 
cile the  idea  of  James  Sheridan  Knowles,  as  I 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  115 

knew  him,  ever  becoming  a  controversial  clergy- 
man ;  and  yet  that  is  what  he  did  become  at  a 
subsequent  period,  abandoning  all  his  old  walks 
of  literature,  and  enlisting  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Baptist  church. 

In  the  following  year  a  clergyman  of  Phila- 
delphia preached  a  sermon  severely  condemna- 
tory of  the  stage.  This  discourse  called  forth 
a  spirited  protest  from  Knowles.  The  article  is 
too  long  for  insertion  here,  but  I  copy  a  few  lines 
to  show  its  spirit : 

' '  Unmerciful  !  whose  office  teacheth  mercy  ! 
Why  damnest  thou  the  actor's  craft  ?     Is  he 
To  starve  because  thou  think  'st  thyself  elected 
To  preach  the  meek  and  lowly  Saviour's  peace  ? 

*  *•  *  s          *  *  # 

Would  by  his  art  thou  more  had'st  profited, 
Thou  ample,  comfortable  piece  of  flesh  ! 

##'*,#*'* 
Act  not  the  damner  of  another's  creed, 
Nor  call  the  Arian — Universalist — 
Socinian — Unitarian — Catholic — 
An  Infidel  !    Judge  not,  -lest  ye  be  judged  ! ' ' 

This  from  James  Sheridan  Knowles  !  and  yet 
I  read  subsequently,  in  the  English  papers,  of 
his  preaching  controversial  sermons,  and  defying 
any  Catholic  to  meet  him  in  open  debate ;  it 
seemed  to  me  incredible.  Fifty-three  years  after 
that  brief  but  pleasant  acquaintanceship  with 
Knowles,  I  was  walking  in  the  beautiful  ceme- 


n6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

tery  of  the  necropolis,  in  the  city  of  Glasgow, . 
Scotland,  and  came  upon  a  simple,  massive  gran- 
ite monument,  bearing  the  inscription,  "JAMES 
SHERIDAN  KNOWLES."  The  preacher  was  dumb; 
the  actor  was  silenced  ;  the  service  and  the  play 
were  over ;  the  curtain  had  fallen. 

The  centennial  anniversary  of  the  birth  of 
Washington,  in  Boston,  as  elsewhere,  was  appro- 
priately remembered.  The  theatre  was  decked 
with  flags  and  streamers,  and  the  delivery  of  a 
prize-poem  was  a  part  of  the  evening's  pro- 
gramme. There  was  a  scatter-brained  lady  at- 
tached to  the  theatre,  by  the  name  of  Hamilton. 
She  was  gifted  with  wonderful  loquacity,  and  had 
the  faculty  of  talking  for  an  hour  or  more  with- 
out saying  anything.  Mr.  Barry,  the  manager, 
though  an  estimable  man,  had,  not  unfrequently, 
a  chilly  and  far-away  manner  that  appeared  any- 
thing but  pleasant,  even  to  those  who  knew  him 
best ;  and  was  always  in  the  habit  of  expressing 
by  a  short,  spasmodic  laugh — something  between 
the  grunt  which  a  pugilist  would  utter  if  hit  be- 
low the  belt,  and  the  sharp  bark  of  a  dog — his 
opinion  of  anything  not  in  accord  with  his  taste 
or  judgment,  or  that  he  deemed  unworthy  of  be- 
lief. 

We  were  all  assembled  in  the  green-room  in 
the  morning  of  that  centennial,  February  22d, 
and  were  discussing  the  day  and  the  celebration, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  117 

when  Miss  Hamilton  burst  into  the  room,  shawl 
off  her  shoulders,  and  bonnet-strings  flying,  with 
— "  I  say,  folks ;  who  is  this  old  Washington 
they're  making  such  a  fuss  about  ?"  Bverybody 
looked  at  her  in  silent  amazement,  and  Mr. 
Barry,  slowly  scanning  her  figure  from  head  to 
foot,  exploded  that  demoniac,  monosyllabic  laugh, 
which  everyone  knew  said,  just  as  plainly  as  if 
he  had  uttered  the  words  — "  Miss  Hamilton, 
you're  a  blooming  idiot."  The  lady  returned  to 
England  the  year  following.  She  was  a  harm- 
less soul,  without  a  balance-wheel.  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  she  ever  knew,  to  the  day  of  her  death, 
who  or  what  George  Washington  was. 

The  winter  of  1834-35  also  made  me  acquaint- 
ed with  one  of  the  great  ones  of  the  mimic  world, 
the  favorite  alike,  of  England  and  America — 
Charles  Matthews.  How  much  has  been  written 
of  Charles  Matthews,  how  much  might  still  be 
written,  yet  not  the  half  be  told.  With  what 
painful  interest  we  read  his  devoted  wife's  story 
of  that  last  four  months  of  his  professional  life 
in  America,  which  terminated  but  three  short 
months  before  his  mortal  life  closed.  When  Mr. 
Matthews  played  that  final  engagement,  he  was 
a  nervous  invalid ;  the  climate  disagreed  with 
him ;  the  physicians  of  New  York,  Philadelphia 
and  Boston  all  refused  to  prescribe  for  him,  and 
recommended  his  return  to  his  native  air ;  the 


n8  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

winter  was  one  of  intense  severity,  the  mercury 
would  be,  one  day,  twelve  degrees  below,  and  the 
next,  twenty-five  degrees  above  zero ;  and  he 
acted  all  the  while  in  a  positive  state  of  mental 
and  physical  discomfort ;  for  a  few  hours  he  would 
make  the  most  gigantic  efforts  to  throw  off  his 
depression  and  physical  suffering,  and  when  on 
the  stage,  the  audience  never  knew  that  they 
were  extracting  amusement  from  a  sufferer ;  and 
how  he  acted — I  can  remember,  but  I  cannot  de- 
scribe. Among  my  "  memories,"  there  is  one — 
pleasant,  yet  sad ;  delightful,  yet  sorrowful  ; 
joyous,  yet  sombre — it  is  the  memory  of  the 
wonderful  mimic  and  comedian,  Charles  Mat- 
thews. During  that  short  and  remarkable  en- 
gagement, Mr.  Matthews  played  "  Caleb  Pipkin" 
in  Buckstones'  drama  of  the  "  May  Queen."  It 
is  absolutely  impossible  to  give  the  reader  any 
idea  of  the  versatile  humor  he  displayed  in  this 
part,  which  not  only  convulsed  his  audience,  but 
set  us  into  uncontrollable  laughter  on  the  stage. 
After  the  first  performance  of  the  piece,  bets 
were  current  among  the  company  that  they 
would  be  able  to  resist  or  yield  to  the  mirth-pro- 
voking power  of  the  comedian,  as  the  case  might 
be ;  but  no  man  who  had  the  temerity  to  back 
himself  ever  won.  Matthews  would  get  us  into 
a  roar  of  laughter  in  spite  of  ourselves,  and 
when  successively  we  would  go  upon  the  stage, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  119 

that  look  of  his,  and  the  utterance  of  four  words — 
"  we've  found  old  Boyer " — would  banish  all 
gravity — despite  our  desperate  efforts  not  to 
laugh  ;  would  excite  the  wildest  mirth  of  the  audi- 
ence, and  stage  and  boxes  were  all  as  one ;  but  not 
a  smile  on  Matthews'  face,  not  one ;  but  a  some- 
thing, a  combination  of  facial  expressions,  abso- 
lutely irresistible  and  quite  impossible  to  de- 
scribe. 

In  his  "  at  homes,"  or  monologue  entertain- 
ments, Matthews  would  sit  behind  a  table,  and 
for  the  space  of  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half, 
or  more,  keep  a  crowded  house  in  hilarious 
mirth.  I  remember  one  imitation  of  an  old 
Scotsman,  who  claimed  for  his  countrymen  abso- 
lute supremacy  in  science,  painting,  poetry,  every- 
thing. His  friend  gave  but  a  reluctant  assent  to 
his  claims,  but  the  Scotsman  declared  it  was  sus- 
ceptible of  proof.  "  Look,"  said  he,  "  at  the  re- 
cord of  history ;  was  not  Wallace  a  Scot — and 
Bruce,  and  Argyle,  and  Knox,  and  Christopher 
North,  and  Home,  and  Hume — were  they  not  all 
Scots  ?  Indeed,  ye'll  not  venture  to  contend  for 
a  moment  that  Scotsmen  have  not  been  the  very 
foremost  men  o'  all  the  world,  or  to  deny  that  ev- 
ery man  of  brilliant  parts  in  history  has  been  a 
Scotsman." — "  Good  G — d  !"  exclaimed  the  oth- 
er; "I  suppose  you'll  tell  me  next  that  Shakes- 
peare was  a  Scotsman." — To  which  the  old  gen- 


I2O  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

tleman  answered,  u  Indeed,  lie  had  talent  enough 
to  warrant  the  supposition." 

The  manner  of  Mr.  Matthews  in  giving  this 
little  bit  of  character  delineation ;  his  imitation 
of  the  old  Scotsman's  sense  of  national  vanity, 
and  his  self-esteem  were  delightful. 

Another  intensely  amusing  personification  of 
Mr.  Matthews',  was  that  of  an  old-time  itinerant 
showman,  who  haunted  the  English  fairs  and 
represented  dramas  and  tragedies  without  any 
company,  playing  all  the  parts  himself,  in  a  sort 
of  second-hand  style ;  an  instance  of  which  he 
gave  in  recounting  his  management  of  Homes' 
tragedy  of  "  Douglas." 

For  the  part  of  "  Young  Norval,"  he  had  a 
lank,  red-headed,  bandy-legged,  awkward  boy,  ill- 
dressed,  with  hose  too  long  and  kilt  too  short, 
brought  on  from  the  side-scene,  and  immediately 
started  in,  with  a  confidential  glance  at  the 
audience,  thus : 

"  This  (young  gentleman's)  name  is  Norval, 
On  the  Grampian  hills 

This  (young  gentleman 's)  father  fed  his  flocks  ; 
A  frugal  swain 

Whose  constant  care  was  to  increase  his  store 
And  keep  his  only  son  (this  young  gentleman)  at  home, 
For  (this  young  gentleman)  had  heard  of  battles 
And  (this  young  gentleman)  longed  to  follow  to  the  field 
Some  warlike  lord;  and  heaven  soon  granted 
What  (this  young  gentleman's  sire)  denied. 
This  moon,  which  rose  last  night,  round — 
(As  this  young  gentleman 's  shield  ought  to  have  been) ' '— 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  121 

When  Matthews  got  thus  far,  and  looked  at 
the  great  square  shield  which  the  "  noble  Nor- 
val "  held  awkwardly  aloft,  and  then  to  the 
audience,  before  introducing  the  "  ought  to  have 
been,"  the  mirth  was  irresistible — the  whole 
audience  was  in  a  roar. 

Mr.  Matthews  returned  to  England  and  died 
within  six  months. 

In  the  following  April,  Boston  witnessed  the 
first  musical  efforts  of  a  lady  who  afterwards  be- 
came the  acknowledged  queen  of  tragedy,  with 
no  rival  near  her  throne — Miss  Charlotte  Cush- 
man.  She  was  a  native  of  Boston,  but  for  some 
years  previous  had  been  a  resident  of  the  adjoin- 
ing town  of  Charlestown.  I  remember  her  well 
as  a  girl,  and  a  vocalist  in  the  choir  of  the  Bui- 
finch  street  church.  Miss  Cushman  appeared  as 
the  "  Countess,"  in  the  opera  of  the  "  Marriage 
of  Figaro."  In  the  year  following,  she  appeared 
as  "  Lady  Macbeth,"  and  surprised  the  public, 
who  had  hitherto  known  her  only  as  a  singer. 
Miss  Cushman  had  a  fondness  for  male  parts, 
and  played  at  this  time,  "  Fortunate  Falcone," 
"  Henry,"  in  "  Speed  the  Plough,"  and  u  Patrick," 
in  the  "  Poor  Soldier."  She  might,  perhaps,  have 
become  a  great  singer,  had  she  not  ruined  a  nat- 
urally fine  voice  by  overtaxing  it ;  and  it  may 
truly  be  said  that  she  became  a  great  tragedienne 
by  the  force  of  circumstances.  Miss  Cushmaii's 


122  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

voice  always  retained  a  coarse  and  harsh  tone, 
the  probable  result  of  her  over-strained  vocal  ef- 
forts. Breaking  down  as  an  opera-singer,  in 
New  Orleans,  she  became  the  pupil  of  Mr.  Bar- 
ton, an  actor  of  the  Macready  school,  and  made 
an  instantaneous  success  as  "  Lady  Macbeth,"  a 
part  to  which  she  had  devoted  the  most  careful 
study.  Subsequently  she  supported  Macready  ; 
his  influence  assisted  materially  in  her  rapid  rise 
to  fame  and  fortune,  and  her  constant  professional 
association  with  him,  no  doubt,  led  to  a  certain 
mannerism  and  tone  that  made  her  appear  a  fe- 
male copy  of  that  gentleman,  pure  and  simple. 
There  was  little  of  feminine  softness  in  anything 
Miss  Cushman  did  upon  the  stage,  but  there  was 
a  perfect  mine  of  depth  and  power.  She  loved 
society  and  fame  and  money,  and  she  had  them 
all. 

I  knew  at  this  time,  another  lady,  the  heroine 
of  a  famous  run-away  affair  with  the  violinist, 
Paganini.  He  had  preceded  her  to  Paris,  where 
she  was  to  join  him,  in  accordance  with  the  ar- 
ranged plan ;  but  on  reaching  Boulogne,  she 
found  not  Paganini,  but  papa. 

Miss  Watson  was  a  "pretty  little  singer,"  noth- 
ing more. 

John  Reeve,  who,  like  John  Dunn,  was  known 
as  the  u  Rascal  Jack,"  I  also  well  remember.  It 
used  to  be  said  of  the  late  William  E.  Burton, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  123 

that  he  was  an  imitator  of  Reeve;  but  he  de- 
clared that  Reeve  copied  him.  I  think  the  two 
comedians  were  naturally  very  much  alike,  and 
certainly,  in  point  of  personal  beauty,  neither  had 
the  advantage  of  the  other.  John  Reeve,  as 
u  Cupid,"  was  a  funny  sight. 

Another  memory  of  the  past  time,  the  old 
Drury  Lane  veteran,  Dowton,  a  great  actor.  I 
can  see  him  now,  "  in  the  mind's  eye,"  the  very 
absolute  realization  of  "  Sir  Robert  Bramble," 
"  Old  Dornton,"  "  Sir  George  Thunder,"  and  a 
half-dozen  more  of  the  old  fellows  .  of  comedy 
that  delighted  the  public.  Mr.  Dowton  was  at 
that  time  seventy-one  years  old,  and,  as  a  capable 
critic  declared,  "  His  representations  of  choleric 
humanity  were  carried  to  the  summit  of  perfec- 
tion." 

At  this  time  it  was  my  privilege  to  form  the 
acquaintance  and  friendship  of  one  whose  name 
is  bright  in  the  remembrance  of  all  who  ever 
knew  him  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic ;  the 
polished  and  perfect  comedian,  the  grand  and 
impressive  tragedian,  the  graceful  and  finished 
elocutionist,  the  successful  and  practical  farmer, 
the  candid,  honest  and  upright  man — James  E. 
Murdoch.  He  was  a  member  of  the  "Tremont  " 
company  during  two  seasons,  and  in  1840-41  was 
stage  manager  of  the  "  National  Theatre,"  in 
Boston.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  attempt  in 


124  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

detail,  any  record  of  Mr.  Murdoch's  brilliant 
career,  in  these  "  Memories."  The  history  of 
that  career  is  stamped  inefFaceably  upon  the  an- 
nals of  the  American  stage,  and  no  words  of  mine 
can  add  to  its  lustre.  I  never  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  Mr.  Murdoch  but  once  after  his  de- 
parture from  Boston,  nearly  fifty  years  ago.  He 
still  lives  in  an  honorable  old  age,  with  the  un- 
disputed claim  to  rank,  not  only  as  a  great  Amer- 
ican actor,  but  as  a  true  lover  of  his  country  and 
his  country's  flag ;  a  patriot  with  a  great  Ameri- 
can soul,  who,  when  the  storm  of  rebellion  swept 
the  land,  devoted  his  time  and  talents  to  alleviate 
the  agony  of  the  dying  soldier,  and — 

' '  Dry  the  widow  and  the  orphan 's  tear, 
Of  those  who  perished  in  their  country 's  cause. ' ' 

Mr.  Balls,  a  comedian  from  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  appeared  at  this  time.  There  was  much 
discussion  among  the  critics  as  to  the  relative 
merits  of  this  gentleman  and  Mr.  Geo.  Barrett ; 
I  recall  a  couplet  of  the  day,  which  said — 

' '  Throw  the  chaplet  of  fame — 

And  e'en  let  it  rest  as  it  falls. 
Should  it  light  on  the  forehead  of  Barrett, 
Or  rest  on  the  forehead  of  Balls. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Miss  Josephine  Clifton — Escape  from  a  Conflagration — Fatal 
Accident— Yankee  Hill  — The  Elder  Vandenhoff  —  Miss 
Hildreth  —  Miss  Missouri — The  Count  Joannes  —  M'lle 
Augusta — The  Slomans — Mr.  Shales — Wreaths  and  Ser- 
vice of  Plate — Mr.  Emmons — His  Patriotic  Oration — Mr. 
Sumner  L.  Fairfield  —  Mr.  Dan  Marble  —  Fanny  Ellsler 
and  Mons.  Sylvain  —  Bunker  Hill  Monument  Tablet  — 
Poem. 

JOSEPHINE  CLIFTON  is  another  of  my 
I  "memories."  Miss  Clifton  was  a  magnifi- 
cent woman,  and  challenged  admiration  in 
many  characters  that  Fanny  Kemble  had  made 
all  her  own ;  she  has  been  long  dead.  The 
Keeleys,  too  —  that  little  couple,  bright  and 
merry — I  remember  with  pleasure ;  and  Fanny 
Jarman,  and  Ellen  Tree,  that  bright  particular 
star  of  the  dramatic  firmament,  whose  praises  in 
prose  and  poetry  were  sung  fifty  years  ago  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic,  of  whem  John  Quincy 
Adams  wrote — 

' '  Nature  to  thee  her  fairest  gifts  imparts — 
She  bids  thee  fascinate,  to  win  all  hearts — 
The  wife,  the  Queen,  the  wayward  child  we  see, 
And  fair  perfection,  all  abide  in  thee. " 


126  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Miss  Tree  afterwards  became  the  wife  of 
Charles  Kean,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  recall- 
ing the  old  days,  when  after  many  long  years,  I 
met  her  with  her  husband  on  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific. 

The  liability  to  conflagration  in  any  building 
devoted  to  theatrical  uses  is  so  great,  that  it  has 
been  said  the  average  life  of  a  theatre  cannot 
exceed  a  period  of  more  than  fifteen  years ;  in 
my  time  I  remember  many  narrow  escapes,  espe- 
cially one  that  occurred  during  the  engagement 
of  the  "  Woods."  While  crossing  the  rear  of  the 
stage  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  glimmer 
overhead,  which  I  took  to  be  the  reflection  from 
a  fragment  of  tin-foil  upon  the  "border;"  but  I 
was  instantly  startled  by  the  thick  falling  of 
sparks  of  fire,  and  hastening  in  great  fright  to 
report  what  I  had  seen,  a  rush  was  made  for  the 
paint-room,  where  a  large  stove  filled  with  an- 
thracite coal  had  ignited  the  floor  beneath,  which 
was  bursting  into  flame ;  carpenters  and  stage- 
hands and  all  who  were  able  came  to  the  rescue, 
but  it  was  a  difficult  and  dangerous  work  to 
extract  the  red-hot  fuel  from  the  furnace  in  time 
to  prevent  the  whole  mass  from  breaking  through 
the  charred  floor  and  falling  upon  the  stage  be- 
neath; had  not  the  discovery  been^made,  in  a  few 
minutes  the  theatre  would  inevitably  have  been 
in  flames.  The  house  was  filled  from  the  gallery 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  127 

to  the  orchestra,  and  the  possibility  of  an  impend- 
ing tragedy  was  a  fearful  contemplation.  There 
was,  of  course,  intense  excitement  behind  the 
curtain,  but  Mr.  Barry  ordered  the  performance 
to  proceed,  while  we  all  worked  zealously,  but 
silently ;  and  the  audience  was  not  aware  of  the 
danger,  although  those  nearest  the  stage  had  a 
suspicion  of  something  wrong  behind  the  scenes. 
It  was  a  sincere  cause  of  thankfulness  that  the 
night  did  not  afford  a  parallel  to  the  horrors  of 
Richmond  and  Brooklyn. 

Another  instance  of  the  possible  danger  which 
(even  with  the  exercise  of  the  utmost  careful- 
ness) surrounds  the  employes  of  a  theatre,  and 
which  was  attended  with  loss  of  life,  I  will  here 
mention.  It  occurred  two  years  later  in  the 
same  theatre,  during  an  engagement  of  Mr. 
Charles  Kean.  The  play  was  "  Pizarro,"  and 
the  house — it  being  Thanksgiving  night — was 
very  full ;  Mr.  Kean  had  just  made  his  entrance 
in  the  second  act,  and  hardly  began  to  speak, 
when  a  loud  rattling  noise  was  heard,  and  from 
above,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  stage,  a  coun- 
ter-weight to  the  act  drop,  a  massive  bar  of  iron, 
some  six  feet  long,  weighted  with  heavy  iron 
rings,  parted  from  the  rope  by  which  it  was  sus- 
pended, and  bursting  through  the  floor  of  the 
"  flies" — the  side  gallery  of  the  stage — fell  prone 
on  the  head  of  Mr.  Stimpson,  an  attache  of  the 


128  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

theatre,  who  stood  beneath ;  he  fell  dead  to  the 
floor  instantly.  I  stood  within  four  feet  of  him 
and  was  spattered  with  his  blood.  The  awful 
noise  stopped  the  action  of  the  play  and  startled 
the  house.  Mr.  Kean  turned  and  saw  the  bolt 
fall ;  white  with  horror,  he  hastened  from  the 
stage,  and  the  curtain  was  dropped.  It  was  an 
awful  scene  ;  every  drop  of  blood  seemed  to  gush 
from  the  victim's  body,  and  the  steps  leading  to 
the  music-room  were  dripping  with  gore.  The 
audience  were  informed  of  the  sad  casualty,  and 
the  crowded  holiday  throng  left  the  theatre  in 
silence  and  in  sadness. 

I  was  witness  to  another  fatal  accident  of  the 
same  nature  many  years  later,  when  I  was  a 
member  of  Messrs.  Ludlow  and  Smith's  company 
in  St.  Louis.  A  lady  of  the  company  was  struck 
dead  during  the  performance,  by  the  heavy  bar- 
rel of  a  suspended  scene  which  fell  from  above  ; 
and  while  her  lifeless  body  lay  in  the  green- 
room, the  star  of  the  night  shocked  the  feelings 
of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  company  by 
his  wish  to  "go  on  with  the  play."  His  unfeel- 
ing proposition  was  met  with  an  indignant  No ! 
In  this  world  of  ours  there  are  men  and  there  are 
men.  All  the  money  in  the  Bank  of  England 
wouldn't  have  tempted  Charles  Kean  to  make 
such  a  proposition ;  but  the  other  gentleman, 
rather  than  lose  two  or  three  hundred  dollars, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  129 

upon  the  ground  that  "the  people  in  front  didn't 
know  how  bad  it  was,"  would  have  gone  on  with 
the  play — and  the  lady  lying  stark  and  dead 
behind  the  scenes!  The  gentleman  has  been 
deceased  these  many  years  ;  his  name  shall  have 
no  place  in  these  "  memories." 

Everybody  in  our  generation  has  heard  of 
Yankee  Hackett,  but  few,  I  think,  have  heard  of 
Yankee  Hill.  The  evanescent  nature  of  the  actor's 
fame  is  exemplified  in  the  forgetfulness  which  has 
fallen  upon  the  little  man  with  twinkling  eyes, 
and  sly,  still  humor,  who  as  Yankee  Hill  used 
to  make  his  auditors  laugh  very  heartily  half  a 
century  ago.  Mr.  Hill's  Yankees  were  the  very 
reverse  of  Mr.  Hackett's,  but  they  were  true  to 
nature — not  of  the  boisterous  type,  but  rather 
the  quiet,  noiseless,  cunning  Down-easter,  who 
whittled  and  talked  a  good  deal,  but  never  very 
loud.  I  remember  him  well ;  he  was  a  pleasant 
little  man,  and  played  successfully  in  all  the 
Atlantic  cities.  Like  so  many  more  that  I  have 
known,  "he  is  dead  and  gone." 

Another  mighty  shadow  of  the  past  rises  to 
my  mental  vision,  worthy  to  rank  among  the 
foremost.  As  a  purely  classic  actor,  Mr.  Van- 
denhoff  (the  elder)  has  not  been  excelled,  per- 
haps not  equalled,  by  any  of  his  contemporaries. 
He  played  in  the  season  of  1837—8,  opening  in 
"  Coriolanus."  Since  the  time  of  Fennell  and 


130  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Cooper,  Addison's  tragedy  of  "  Cato"  had  found, 
I  think,  no  representation  on  the  American 
stage ;  it  was  revived  by  Mr.  Vandenhoff.  I 
remember  his  impressive  performance  in  "  John 
of  Procida,"  and  also  the  charm  of  his  "Riche- 
lieu" and  "  Othello" — indeed,  nothing  was  wanted 
in  any  of  his  personations  to  satisfy  the  most 
critical  judgment  and  acnte  perception.  Mr. 
Vandenhoff  did  not  prove  very  attractive,  strange 
to  say ;  but  the  highest  genius  and  talent  is 
sometimes  doomed  to  neglect.  He  was  a  grand 
actor. 

I  played  about  this  time  with  a  Lowell  lady, 
Miss  Hildreth.  She  appeared  as  "  Marianna"  in 
Knowles'  play  of  "The  Wife."  She  retired 
within  two  years,  and  became  subsequently,  I 
think,  the  wife  of  General  Benjamin  F.  Butler. 

In  May,  1838,  a  lovely  girl,  only  seventeen 
years  of  age,  appeared  as  "Alice,"  in  a  drama 
called  "Ernest  Maltravers."  Miss  Missouri  was 
by  birth  a  sister  of  Josephine  Clifton.  The  his- 
tory of  this  talented  and  beautiful  creature  is  of 
itself  a  tragedy.  She  became  the  victim  of  self- 
ishness, slander  and  cupidity,  and  died  soon 
after,  mad  —  "a  lovely  rose,  cut  off  before  her 
time."  Time  has  not  banished  her  matchless 
face  and  form  from  my  remembrance. 

The  first  performance  of  Bulwer's  play,  the 
"  Lady  of  Lyons,"  took  place  at  the  National 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  131 

Theatre  at  this  time,  the  hero  being  represented 
by  the  notorious  George  Jones,  better  known  as 
the  "  Count  Joannes."  I  knew  Jones  well;  he 
was  the  son  of  a  police  officer  of  Boston,  born,  I 
think,  upon  the  sea.  His  advent  upon  the  stage 
at  the  old  Federal  St.  Theatre  occurred  some  two 
years  before  the  opening  of  the  "  Tremont,"  to 
which  he  was  attached  for  the  period  of  one  sea- 
son. Mr.  Jones  was  always  remarkable  for  his 
self-esteem,  which  was  evinced  even  at  that  early 
date,  by  an  occurrence  which  I  well  remember. 
On  an  opening  night  he  had  to  make  his  first 
entrance  upon  the  stage  with  Mrs.  Finn ;  the 
lady,  being  a  popular  favorite,  was  greeted  with 
loud  applause,  which  Mr.  Jones  assumed  as  being 
all  for  himself,  and,  leaving  the  lady  up  the 
stage,  advanced  to  the  footlights  with  obsequious 
bows  and  smiles ;  a  chilling  suspension  of  the 
applause  convinced  him  of  his  mistake.  Mr. 
Jones  costumed  the  part  of  "  Claude  Melnotte  " 
in  a  most  remarkable  manner,  wearing,  as  the 
"  Prince  of  Como,"  an  Italian  doublet,  with  long, 
hanging  sleeves,  reaching  almost  to  his  feet ;  he 
looked  like  a  bat.  His  subsequent  extraordinary 
career  is  well  known.  Mr.  Forrest  represented 
"  Claude,"  at  the  "  Tremont ;"  the  "  Pauline  " 
was  Mrs.  George  Barrett ;  no  lovelier  "  Pauline  " 
was  ever  seen. 


132  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

At  this  time  I  first  saw  Mile.  Augusta.  She 
was  a  beautiful  woman,  and  a  beautiful  dancer ; 
indeed,  up  to  that  date,  probably  the  best  the 
American  public  had  seen.  Ellsler  had  not  yet 
come. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sloman  I  also  knew  for  the  first 
time.  Like  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Barnes,  they  treated 
their  patrons  to  a  mingled  banquet  of  smiles  and 
tears — tragedy  and  farce. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  season,  the  fortunes 
of  the  drama  became  almost  desperate ;  beyond 
even  the  power  of  the  no-haired-horse,  or  the 
great  tragedian,  Shales,  to  revive. 

Shales  was  a  young  man  of  somewhat  feeble 
intellect,  completely  stage-struck,  and  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  born  to  be  a  great  ac- 
tor. The;  wags  of  the  city  got  hold  of  him,  and 
assured  him  that  in  the  character  of  "  Richard 
III  "  he  would  make  a  phenomenal  impression ; 
and  indulged  in  oyster  suppers  at  his  expense, 
while  they  rehearsed  him  in  a  stable-loft.  A  ben- 
efit was  announced  for  Mr.  Shales,  and  the  house 
was  filled  with  a  crowd  prepared  for  fun.  Never 
was  a  more  enthusiastic  reception  given  to  a  deb- 
utant ;  than  the  debutant  never  was  a  more 
ridiculous  figure  seen ;  reading,  pronunciation, 
carriage,  gesticulation,  were  the  height  of  ab- 
surdity. Screams  of  laughter  and  ironical  ap- 
plause, missiles  of  various  kinds,  and  paper  bags 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  133 

of  flour  did  not  seem  to  destroy  his  self-pos- 
session ;  and  towards  the  end,  when  a  great  hoop, 
entwined  with  cabbages  and  turnips  and  other 
"  garden  truck,"  was  thrown  to  him,  amidst  tre- 
mendous shouts  of  applause,  he  received  it  with 
smiles  as  the  curtain  fell.  Immediately  loud 
calls  for  "  Shales  !  Shales  !  "  were  heard,  and  he 
re-appeared  to  receive  another  ovation.  From  the 
proscenium-box  a  large  salver,  on  which  was  a 
gorgeous  service  of  plate — made  of  tin — was  of- 
fered for  his  acceptance.  Every  article  of  the 
tea-set  was  of  the  most  exaggerated  size  and 
shape  ;  the  teapot  had  a  spout  a  foot  long.  He 
took  the  gift,  and  standing  apparently  undecided 
what  to  do,  a  wag  in  front  shouted  out :  "  Take 
it  home  to  your  mother,  Mr.  Shales ;  tell  her  to 
give  a  tea-party  and  we'll  all  come,"  and  he  bore 
his  present  off  in  triumph,  amidst  a  tornado  of 
flour-balls,  and  a  hurricane  of  applause.  From 
the  green-room,  the  triumphal  wreath  found  its 
way  to  the  paint-room  of  the  theatre,  and  thence 
to  the  pump,  which  at  that  time  stood  at  the  head 
of  State  street,  where,  on  the  following  day,  it 
was  exhibited  to  the  gaze  of  admiring  crowds, 
and  then  sent  to  New  York  for  the  gratification 
of  the  friends  of  native  talent.  The  plate  was 
boxed  up  and  sent  out  to  a  suburban  hotel  where 
Mr.  Shales'  admirers  intended  to  assemble  for  "  a 
good  time  ;"  but  the  landlord,  thinking  the  joke 


134  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

had  gone  far  enough,  dropped  the  box  and  con- 
tents into  the  river.  If  Mr.  Shales  lacked 
shrewdness,  certainly  his  father  and  mother  were 
shrewd  individuals,  for  they  bagged  over  $1,100 
by  their  eminent  son's  performance  of  "  Richard 
III." 

I  recall  another  first  appearance,  of  somewhat 
the  same  character,  which  took  place  during  my 
early  days.  A  member  of  the  company,  to  im- 
prove his  chances  on  his  benefit  night,  availed 
himself  of  the  ridiculous  notoriety  of  an  indi- 
vidual, whom,  I  dare  say,  many  old  Bostonians 
remember,  and  it  was  announced  that  Mr.  Em- 
mons  would,  on  that  occasion,  make  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  a  grand  patriotic  national  drama, 
written  by  himself.  Mr.  Emmon's  honorable 
occupation  was  the  manufacture  of  spruce  and 
ginger  beer,  from  which  he  had  obtained  the  sou- 
briquet of  "  Pop  Emmons."  He  was  an  older 
man  than  Shales,  but  not  much,  if  any,  wiser. 
His  weakness  was  the  forum  rather  than  the 
stage,  and  he  improved  the  opportunity  to  get  be- 
fore the  public  on  holidays  and  any  days  that 
offered  the  chance  of  gathering  a  crowd. 

On  a  certain  Fourth  of  July  morning,  the  pa- 
pers informed  their  readers  that  the  "  distin- 
guished orator,  Mr.  Emmons,  would  deliver  an 
oration  on  horseback,  at  eleven  o'clock,  upon  the 
Common,  to  which  the  public  was  courteously 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  J35 

invited."  The  "  public  "  wouldn't  have  missed 
such  a  chance  for  fun  if  it  had  not  been  invited, 
and  at  the  appointed  hour,  Mr.  Emmons,  manu- 
script in  hand,  his  u  head-quarters  in  the  saddle,'7 
on  a  lean  and  ill-conditioned  horse,  passed  through 
the  gates  into  the  center  of  a  large  and  admiring 
crowd.  Gracefully  acknowledging  the  plaudits, 
he  started  in  on  his  oration,  but  had  only  uttered 
a  few  sentences  when  a  mischievous  gamin  in 
the  throng  amused  himself  and  his  gang  by 
thrusting  a  pin  into  the  haunches  of  his  horse. 
Emmons  turned  round  with  an  expostulation  and 
a  mild  rebuke  to  the  youngster,  and  started  in 
again  with  his  speech.  In  a  minute  or  two,  an- 
other jab  of  the  pin  made  the  horse  dance  and 
the  crowd  laugh ;  again  Emmons  protested,  and 
again  resumed  his  oration.  This  was  repeated 
several  times,  to  the  anger  of  Emmons  and  the 
great  merriment  of  the  crowd,  until,  finally,  just 
as  Emmons  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and  with  wild 
gesticulations,  began  to  apostrophize  the  bangled- 
tar  spanner,  or  the  bar-tangled  banner,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  one  urchin,  more  wicked  than 
his  fellows,  gave  the  horse  a  prodigious  prod,  and 
the  animal,  thinking,  if  his  rider  did  not,  that 
u  patience  was  no  longer  a  virtue,"  bucked 
viciously  and  ttimbled  the  orator  heels  over  head 
upon  the  grass.  Satisfied  with  this  successful 
commencement  of  the  National  Holiday,  the 


136  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

patriotic  young  vagabonds  adjourned  to  the  frog- 
pond  to  stone  the  frogs,  and  see  the  balloon  go 
up,  while  Emmons  gathered  himself  up  and  went 
away  lamenting  the  ingratitude  of  republics. 

Mr.  Emmons'  first  appearance  on  the  stage 
was  as  successful  as  Mr.  Shales,  and  in  the  same 
way;  but  the  gentleman  who  resorted  to  the  un- 
wise expedient  to  improve  his  exchequer  received 
no  pecuniary  advantage. 

One  more  stage  absurdity,  though  not  of  the 
same  character,  I  am  reminded  of.  A  Mr.  Sumner 
IY.  Fairfield,  who  I  believe  had  some  reputation 
as  a  writer  sixty  years  ago,  made  his  first  ap- 
pearance at  the  old  Boston  Theatre — I  forget 
what  he  played — but  it  was  not  a  pronounced 
success.  Through  the  influence  of  his  friends  he 
was  engaged  as  a  regular  member  of  the  com- 
pany, and  was  advertised  to  appear  on  his  second 
night  as  the  "  Uncle,"  in  "  George  Barnwell." 
The  audience  were  a  little  inclined  to  laugh  at 
his  acting,  when,  to  be  serious  would  have  been 
more  grateful  to  his  feelings,  but  he  got  on  pas- 
sably well,  and  was  shot  "  in  regulation  style," 
by  "  George."  Unfortunately  he  fell  too  far  down 
the  stage,  and  was  left  outside  the  curtain,  in 
full  view  of  the  audience.  There  was  a  titter  of 
suppressed  mirth  in  the  house,  which  was  in- 
creased after  the  lapse  of  a  moment  by  his  bob- 
bing up  his  head,  as  if  to  see  if  anyone  was 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  137 

coming  to  carry  off  his  dead  body.  No  one  came, 
and  presently  he  bobbed  up  his  head  a  second 
time — as  Falstaff  does  on  the  field  of  Shrews- 
bury— and  bobbed  it  down  again.  The  house 
was  now  in  a  roar  of  laughter;  a  moment  more, 
and  for  the  third  time,  seeing  no  one  coming  to 
his  relief,  he  got  up,  looked  dazedly  at  the  audi- 
ence and  walked  off.  The  situation  would  have 
been  an  admirable  one  for  Finn  or  Burton,  but 
for  a  tragic  novice  it  was  too  much.  Mr.  Fair- 
field  dissappeared  from  public  view. 

In  1839-40,  the  theatre  was  opened  under  the 
management  of  my  early  friend  and  associate, 
Mr.  J.  S.  Jones,  and  in  January  two  benefits  were 
given  to  the  families  of  Mr.  Henry  J.  Finn  and 
Mr.  Charles  Eberle,  who,  with  some  three  hun- 
dred others  were  lost  by  the  burning  of  the 
steamer  "  Lexington,"  on  Long  Island  Sound. 
These  benefits  apart  from  their  charitable  pur- 
pose were  notable  for  the  artistic  array  of  volun- 
teers. Mr.  Tasistro,  who  was  once  connected 
with  the  "  London  Atheneum,"  and  was  subse- 
quently, I  believe,  a  government  clerk  in  Wash- 
ington, appeared,  but  won  no  laurels  as  an  actor. 
I  remember  at  this  time  Mr.  Dan  Marble,  in  his 
line  of  Yankee  characters,  he  was  quite  unlike 
Hackett  or  Hill,  but  he  was  excessively  funny, 
and  he  will  be  remembered  by  old  theatre-goers 
for  his  "  Sam  Patch/'  and  "  Game  Cock  of  the 


138  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Wilderness ;  "  these  two  monstrosities  of  plays 
were  worse  than  bad,  but  Marble's  acting  in  them 
was  more  than  good. 

Place  atix  dames!  Fanny  Ellsler,  the  finest 
danseuse  that  ever  crossed  the  Atlantic — the 
peer  of  Taglioni  —  the  superior  of  Cherito — 
arrived  in  New  York  in  the  summer  of  1840; 
and  I  saw  her  on  the  stage  for  the  first  time  in 
September.  The  newspaper  writers  and  critics 
of  that  day  were  so  dazzled  by  her  success,  her 
talent  and  her  personal  charms,  that  the  utmost 
power  of  language  was  exhausted  in  their  praises 
of  the  "  divine  Fanny." 

In  the  "  Beauties  of  the  Opera  and  Ballet," 
she  was  described  as  "  tall,  beautifully  formed, 
with  limbs  like  those  of  the  hunting  Diana,  a 
small  and  classical  head,  a  pure,  fair  skin  that 
required  no  artificial  whiteness,  beaming  eyes, 
finely-curved  lips,  and  glossy  hair  of  bright 
chestnut  hue,  braided  over  a  forehead  formed  to 
wear  with  grace  and  dignity  the  diadem  of  a 
queen  or  the  floral  wreath  of  a  nymph." 

I  do  not  think  that  there  is  much  exaggeration 
in  this  description.  I  certainly  remember  Fanny 
Ellsler  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  I  ever 
have  seen.  She  carried  America  by  storm ;  from 
Baltimore  to  Boston  the  mania  spread ;  all  the 
ladies  wore  Ellsler  cuffs,  all  the  gentlemen  wore 
Ellsler  boots,  all  the  bakers  baked  Ellsler  bread. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  139 

Her  queendom  was  undisputed.  She  was  to  the 
ballet  wrhat  Malibran  was  and  Patti  is  to  the 
opera.  When  she  floated  on  the  air  in  u  La 
Sylphide,"  or  jingled  her  golden-heeled  boots  in 
"  La  Cracovienne,"  or  beat  her  castanets  and 
swept  the  circle  of  the  stage  in  "  La  Cachucha," 
she  was  the  personification  of  grace,  the  absolute 
"  poetry  of  motion." 

Fanny  Ellsler  was  accompanied  by  Monsieur 
Sylvain.  This  gentleman  was  a  clever  dancer ; 
gossip  said  that  Hibernia,  not  Gaul,  gave  him 
birth,  and  Sylvain  certainly  sounds  a  little  like 
Sullivan.  During  Miss  Ellsler's  visit  she  con- 
tributed her  benefit  money  on  one  night  towards 
the  completion  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument. 
She  returned  to  Europe  with  an  ample  fortune, 
and  died,  I  think,  some  two  years  since. 

Fanny  Ellsler's  contribution  to  the  Bunker 
Hill  Monument  fund  was  the  cause  of  much 
squibbing  and  joking  at  the  expense  of  Bos- 
tonians.  I  remember  one  " cartoon"  represent- 
ing the  completed  column  with  Fanny  perched 
on  the  apex  "  en  pirouette /"  and  the  press  all 
over  the  country  had  many  good-naturedly  ma- 
licious flings  at  the  lax  patriotism  that  permitted 
a  ballet  dancer  to  finish  the  work  which  had  been 
so  long  delayed.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that 
the  u  amour  propre"  of  Boston  was  very  much 
frayed  by  those  comments.  Boston  is  not  the 


140  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

only  locality  where  such  work  has  met  with  delay. 
During  the  many  years  that  the  Washington 
Monument  lingered  to  completion,  a  gift  of  six 
hundred  dollars  would  not  probably  have  been 
refused  by  the  building  committee,  even  if  offered 
by  an  opera  dancer. 

The  construction  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment was  to  me  a  boyhood  matter  of  great  interest. 
I  used  to  dig  dandelions  and  fly  kites  in  my 
younger  days  on  the  grassy  slopes  of  Bunker 
Hill,  and  was  very  proud  when  on  one  occasion, 
a  party  of  tourists  boosted  me  up  on  the  pedestal 
of  the  old  masonic  shaft,  which  stood  near  where 
the  present  monument  stands,  to  read  the  inscrip- 
tion commemorative  of  Warren  and  his  fellow 
patriots. 

I  was  at  school  in  Bradford  when  the  corner- 
stone of  the  monument  was  laid,  and  came  home 
for  the  occasion.  That  was  a  great  day.  In  the 
procession  there  were  some  twelve  or  fifteen  sur- 
vivors of  the  battle,  and  the  old  fellows  held 
up  their  powder-horns  and  cartridge-boxes,  and 
waved  their  hats  from  the  barouches  to  the  ex- 
cited crowd.  Webster — "Black  Dan,"  as  his 
admirers  loved  to  call  him — and  Lafayette,  I  saw 
for  the  first  time.  When  the  foundation  had 
reached  the  surface,  the  first  two  courses  above 
ground  were  by  some  error  mislaid,  and  had  to 
be  taken  up  and  relaid  in  accordance  with  the 
architect's  plan. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  141 

Some  years  ago  a  tablet  was  placed  a  short 
distance  from  the  base  of  the  column,  to  indicate 
the  exact  spot  upon  which  Warren  received  his 
death  wound.  An  English  gentleman,  visiting 
America,  called  upon  his  friend,  a  Boston  mer- 
chant, who  had  received  many  courtesies  at  his 
hands,  during  a  visit  to  the  mother-land.  The 
Boston  gentleman  anxious  to  do  the  handsome 
thing  for  his  English  friend,  took  him  around  to 
see  all  the  lions  of  Boston  and  vicinity — reserving 
Bunker  Hill  for  the  last.  When  they  reached 
the  sacred  spot,  to  illustrate  the  history  of  the 
day,  he  began  with — u  Here  you  see  is  Charles- 
town — across  the  river  you  will  observe  is  Copp's 
Hill,  from  the  base  of  which  the  British  force 
embarked ;  yonder,  below  the  navy  yard,  is  the 
point  where  they  disembarked ;  up  this  steep,  to 
the  left  hand,  General  Pigott  advanced  with  his 
grenadiers,  towards  the  redoubt — just  where  we 
stand — in  which  Prescott  and  the  Continentals 
awaited  the  attack."  The  English  gentleman 
was  greatly  interested;  and  the  Bostonian,  mov- 
ing slowly  towards  the  stone  tablet,  and  pointing 
to  the  inscription,  said  impressively  —  "Here 
Warren  fell !  "  The  Britisher  looked  at  the  stone, 
and  then  to  the  top  of  the  monument,  and  re- 
peated, "here  Warren  fell!  Did  he?  Was  he 
hurt?"  The  Yankee  amazed  at  the  question 
replied,  "Hurt?  great  God,  sir,  he  was  killed !  " 


142  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

The  Englishman  took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth, 
gave  another  glance  at  the  stone,  and  again  at 
the  top  of  the  column,  and  with  cool  imperturba- 
bility replied,  "  Killed  ;  was  he  ?  How  high  do 
you  say  it  is,  two  hundred  and  two  feet?  Well  I 
should  think  he  would  have  been." 

Among  our  centennial  anniversaries,  that  of 
Bunker  Hill  was  not  forgotten,  and  as  the  writer 
is  a  Bunker  Hill  boy,  he  may  be  pardoned  for 
inserting  here  the  following  verses  which  were 
offered  as  his  contribution  to  the  festivities  of  the 
Bunker  Hill  Association  of  San  Francisco,  as 
one  of  his  "  memories  " — 


THE   FIGHT   OF   BUNKER   HII.lv. 


In  the  story  of  the  days  of  our  sires, 
One  chapter  rekindles  all  the  fires 

That  live  in  the  breasts  of  the  free  ; 
'Tis  the  story  of  the  fight 
On  Bunker's  grassy  height, 

Where  Mystic  rolls  his  tide  to  the  sea. 

In  the  year  seventy-five,  on  the  morn 

Of  the  seventeenth  of  June,  with  the  dawn 

Hope  comes  to  the  crushed  of  the  earth  ; 
And  the  shining  page  unfolds 
Where  a  thousand  gallant  souls 

Pledge  their  all  for  the  land  of  their  birth. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  143 


With  shovel,  pick  and  spade,  through  the  night 
They  have  toiled  side  by  side  till  the  light 

Of  the  sun  in  the  morning  blazes  out ; 
Then,  the  mattock  cast  aside, 
They  stand  ready  to  abide 

Weal  or  woe — life  or  death  in  the  redoubt. 

Across  the  river  deep,  by  the  steep 

Of  the  hill  where  their  forefathers  sleep, 

The  king's  men  are  gathering  for  the  fray ; 
And,  adown  the  placid  stream, 
The  frigates  lie  agleam 

In  panoply  of  war,  on  the  bay. 

Now  the  drums  beat  to  arms,  with  alarms 
Of  bugle-blast  and  trumpet-call,  and  throngs 

Of  Boston's  pallid  women  gaze  in  fear, 
From  out  "the  belfry  arch 
Of  the  tower  of  the  church  ' ' 

Whence  the  signal  blazed  forth  to  Paul  Revere. 

The  artillery  thunders  out,  and  the  sky 
Is  lurid  with  the  flames  that  on  high 

From  the  rebels '  burning  roof-trees  ascend  ; 
And  the  hurtling  shot  and  shell, 
With  the  energy  of  hell, 

In  the  loud  and  awful  diapason  blend. 

Anon  the  crowded  boats  are  ferried  o  'er, 

And  three  thousand  trained  veterans  leap  ashore, 

The  order  of  the  king  to  fulfill ; 
And  from  the  strand  where  they  land, 
The  scarlet-coated  band, 

With  Pigott  in  the  van,  mount  the  hill. 


144  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 


In  the  Continental  host  not  a  word — 
Not  the  echo  of  a  whisper  can  be  heard, 

Till  within  a  hundred  paces  come  the  foe  ; 
Then,  from  Prescott,  in  the  redoubt, 
The  word  to  ' '  Fire  !  ' '  rings  out, 

And  down  the  hill  the  shattered  columns  go. 

They  rally  once  again,  mid  their  slain, 
The  prestige  of  their  prowess  to  retain, 

And  their  gory  steps  retrace  to  win  the  prize  ; 
When  old  Putnam,  full  of  ire, 
Cries  out — "Soldiers,  hold  your  fire 

Until  you  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes  !  ' ' 

The  yeomen,  with  their  .spirits  all  aflame, 
Pick  their  flints,  and  with  sure  and  steady  aim, 

From  their  muskets  send  the  quick  and  certain  doom; 
And  the  foemen  melt  away 
In  the  wild  and  stormy  fray 

Of  that  day,  to  the  grave  and  the  tomb. 

A  hotter  blast  of  death  ne'er  before 
The  veterans  of  the  line  ever  bore, 

But  their  unquestioned  valor  all  in  vain, 
'Gainst  men  who  fate  defy, 
And  boys  that  dare  to  die, 

And  the  grenadiers  go  down  the  hill  again. 

Clinton  views  the  bloody  strife  from  afar, 
And  with  freshly-gathered  hosts  hastens  o'er 

To  redeem  the  flying  field  from  the  rout ; 
While,  no  powder  left  to  burn, 
The  Continentals  turn 

And  withdraw,  inch  by  inch,  from  the  redoubt. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  145 


Of  the  means  to  battle  longer  bereft, 
No  craven  spirits  they — for  they  left 

With  muskets  clubb'd,  fighting  as  they  go 
And  with  patriotic  pride, 
Kvery  one  of  them  that  died, 

Died  with  face  and  with  breast  to  the  foe. 

And  this  is  the  tale  of  Bunker's  fight 
For  the  right,  'gainst  Briton 's  might ; 

The  story  that  our  fathers  tell 
Of  the  morn  and  afternoon 
Of  that  sweltering  day  in  June 

When  Warren  and  his  comrades  fell. 

And  this  story  of  the  days  of  our  sires, 
We  will  tell  to  our  children,  and  the  fires 

Of  freedom  unextinguished  shall  be, 
While  Warren  and  his  braves 
Rest  in  their  holy  graves, 

And  Mystic  rolls  his  tide  to  the  sea. 


10 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mr.  Braham — The  Seguins — Mr.  Creswick— The  National 
Theatre — Mr.  Cooper  and  his  Daughter — Miss  Jean  Daven- 
port (Mrs.  Lander) — "  Mr.  Crummies  ' ' — Mr.  JoshSilsbee — 
Mr.  Cartlitch — Acting  to  Music — Mr.  Rasimi  and  his 
' '  Or  '  '—My  ' '  Guarded  ' '  Exit — Summer  Theatricals- 
General  N.  P.  Banks — Hon.  Gideon Haynes — Hon.  Nathan 
Porter — Gen'l  Andrew  Jackson — Davy  Crockett — Aaron 
Burr — Mr.  Frederick  Brown— Mr.  Knaggs  Buries  Him- 
self— Stage  Mistakes — Mrs.  Seymour. 

IN  1841,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  another 
great  celebrity  of  the  musical  world — John  Bra- 
ham.  He  was  nearly  seventy  years  old,  and  had 
been  acknowledged,  in  his  prime,  as  "  England's 
greatest  tenor."  His  success  on  the  stage  was 
indifferent,  but  in  the  concert-room  he  still  proved 
attractive;  as  an  actor  public  judgment  was 
unanimous  in  pronouncing  him  exceptionally 
bad  ;  but  in  the  "  Bay  of  Biscay,"  "  Scot's  Wha 
Hae,"  the  "  Death  of  Nelson,"  and  other  such 
songs — he  vindicated  his  claim  of  supreme  excel- 
lence. Twelve  years  subsequent  to  the  time  of 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  147 

which  I  write,  Mr.  Braham  sang  in  London  to 
admiring  crowds — he  was  then  more  than  eighty 
years  old.  For  some  seven  or  eight  years,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Seguin — they  were  always  known  as 
the  "  Seguins  " — were  greatly  popular.  I  recall 
the  gentleman's  acting  and  singing,  in  the  operas 
of  "Fra  Diavolo"  and  the  ''Bohemian  Girl," 
very  vividly.  Mr.  Seguin  turned  low-comedian 
before  his  decease — and  why  ? 

Another  fine  actor  of  the  period  was  Mr. 
William  Creswick ;  this  gentleman  has  recently 
played  to  large  and  admiring  audiences  in  the 
Australian  cities,  and  won  fame  and  profit,  not- 
withstanding he  has  passed  the  boundary  of  three 
score  and  ten  years. 

In  the  season  of  1838,  I  rejoined  my  old  man- 
ager, Mr.  Pelby,  and  was  a  member  of  the 
"  National  "  Company.  After  an  absence  of  sev- 
eral years,  Mr.  Thomas  Cooper  made  his  re- 
appearance, with  his  daughter.  He  came  to  take 
leave  of  Boston,  and  doubtless  thought  that  sym- 
pathy for  the  father  would  be  aroused  by  kindly 
feeling  for  the  child;  the  young  lady  had  no 
marked  ability,  but  was  accepted  for  her  father's 
sake.  The  spell  once  wielded  by  the  magician 
was  broken  by  time  and  indulgence,  and  the  en- 
gagement of  ten  nights  produced  an  average 
nightly  receipt  of  $130.  In  other  days  Mr. 
Cooper  had  frequently  played  to  $1,200. 


148  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

This  was  also  my  first  introduction  to  a  young 
Miss,  who  afterwards  held  high  rank  as  an 
actress.  Jean  Margaret  Davenport  was  at  that 
time  about  fourteen  years  old ;  she  evinced  great 
ability  as  "  a  juvenile  prodigy,"  which  title  she 
was  known  by  in  the  "  bills,"  and  is  one  of  the 
few  examples  in  dramatic  annals  of  the  precocious 
bud  bearing  sturdy  fruit.  As  Mrs.  Lander,  she 
was  well  known  in  after  years,  and  was  generally 
popular.  Her  father  was  a  shrewd  and  politic 
manager,  and  guarded  his  daughter's  interests 
with  parental  fidelity.  He  was  said  to  be  the 
original  of  Dicken's  "  Vincent  Crummies."  He 
has  been  dead  many  years.  Mrs.  Lander  retired 
from  the  stage  about  fifteen  years  ago. 

Here  too,  I  first  knew  the  comedian — Silsbee. 
This  famous  actor,  achieved  a  great  reputation  in 
England,  as  a  personator  of  Yankee  peculiari- 
ties. I  met  him  often  professionally  in  after 
years.  He  died  in  San  Francisco  about  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago,  and  was  buried  in  the  Yerba 
Buena  cemetery.  Municipal  improvements  some 
three  years  latter  necessitating  the  removal  of  the 
cemetery,  the  body  of  the  deceased  actor  was 
found  undecayed,  and  perfect  in  form  and  feature 
as  when  placed  in  the  ground. 

I  became  acquainted  with  a  lady  at  this  period, 
who  subsequently  won  a  reputation  co-extensive 
with  the  boundaries  of  the  land  that  gave  her 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  149 

birth.  Miss  Julia  Dean  was,  when  I  first  saw  her, 
tall,  exquisitely  graceful,  with  the  complexion  of 
the  lily,  and  features  of  perfect  loveliness ;  she 
came  from  good  dramatic  stock,  being  the  grand- 
daughter of  Samuel  Drake,  one  of  the  pioneers 
of  the  drama  west  of  the  Alleghenies,  and  was 
a  native  of  Louisville  Kentucky.  For  many 
years,  at  intervals,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  playing 
with  this  beautiful,  brilliant,  and  in  some  respects 
unfortunate  lady,  not  only  in  the  Bast  and  South, 
but  also  on  the  Pacific  slope ;  and  among  my 
cherished  memories  retain  the  name  of  Julia 
Dean  Hayne.  I  shall  have  further  occasion  to 
speak  of  her. 

The  National  Theatre  was  for  a  short  time 
under  the  stage  management  of  Mr.  J.  G.  Cart- 
litch.  "Old"  Cartlitch,  as  he  was  called,  had 
blossomed  from  the  minor  theatres  of  London 
some  forty  or  fifty  years  antecedent  to  his  appear- 
ance in  Boston  ;  he  was  the  original  "  Mazeppa," 
and  had  never  forgotten  it,  and  didn't  let  anyone 
else  forget  it ;  he  was  the  concentrated  essence 
of  bucket-topped  boots,  smuggler's  belts,  big 
buckles,  fighting  swords  and  pizzicato  music ;  he 
had  never  played  anything  in  all  his  life  except 
to  music,  and  never  meant  to  if  he  could  help  it. 
The  theatre  at  that  time  was  essentially  a  melo- 
dramatic house,  yet  nevertheless  the  legitimate 
was  not  seldom  presented,  and  as  Mr.  Cartlitch 


150  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

was  hardly  "  at  home"  in  the  old  comedies,  ory 
for  the  matter  of  that,  in  the  new  ones,  Mr.  J.  B. 
Wright,  the  prompter,  and  afterwards  the  man- 
ager, generally  came  to  his  relief.  I  remember 
that  the  exigencies  of  the  theatre  compelled  him 
once  to  cast  himself  for  "Young  Malfort"  in  the 
"  Soldier's  Daughter,"  and  while  at  rehearsal 
awaiting  his  cue  to  enter,  and  not  taking  it  up, 
answered,  on  Mr.  Wright's  saying,  "  That's  your 
cue,  Mr.  Cartlitch,"  "Well,  where's  the  music? 
I  can't  come  on  without  music ;  Mr.  Holloway, 
please  play  three  bars  from  the  hurry  in  "  Ma- 
zeppa."  Mr.  Cartlitch  had  another  peculiarity  : 
in  making  out  his  programmes  he  would  always 
give  every  piece  a  double  title  ;  it  was  the  "  Ren- 
dezvous ;  OR,  The  Cock'd  Hat  and  Simon" — 
it  was  " Lucre tia  Borgia;  OR,  The  Seven  Cof- 
fins and  Seven  Cups  of  Poison" — it  was  u  Bill 
Jones ;  OR,  The  Bloody  Black  Brig  of  Ber- 
muda." When  on  one  occasion  the  comedy  of 
"The  Will"  was  to  be  cast,  Mr.  Cartlitch  was 
greatly  puzzled  for  his  second  title  ;  but  looking 
the  play  over  and  finding  that  Sir  Solomon 
Cynic  conceals  himself  among  some  straw  in  a 
closet,  in  one  scene,  he  was  relieved  of  his  em- 
barrassment, and  the  posters  announced  in  big 
letters  :  The  Elegant  Comedy  of  "  The  Will ; 
OR,  The  Old  Man  in  the  Straw!"  Mr.  Pelby, 
who  was  a  man  of  taste  and  judgment,  surprised 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  151 

at  this  remarkable  announcement,  put  his  inter- 
dict on  Mr.  Cartlitch's  double  titles. 

The  short  but  necessary  word  "or"  in  con- 
necting Mr.  Cartlitch's  double  titles,  reminds  me 
of  an  occasion  in  which  it  became  a  matter  of 
debate  and  dispute  between  Mr.  Barrymore,  the 
capable  stage  director  of  the  Tremont  Theatre, 
and  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Rasimi,  who  was 
a  member  of  the  ballet  corps,  and  occasionally 
trusted  with  a  line  or  two  to  speak.  Rasimi, 
after  reconnoitering  the  cottage  of  a  supposed 
criminal,  whom  in  his  capacity  of  constable  he 
was  to  apprehend,  was  to  approach  the  house 
and  knock  upon  the  door,  exclaiming  as  he  did 

it,  "  Open  the  door  instantly,  or ,"  leaving 

the  occupant  to  understand  what  might  be  ex- 
pected if  his  demand  was  not  complied  with. 

Mr.  Rasimi  entered,  made  his  reconnoissance, 
knocked  on  the  door,  and  made  his  demand, 
bringing  out  the  last  word  with  a  full  stop,  and 
with  the  force  of  a  catapult,  "Open  the  door 
instantly,  OR !" 

Mr.  Barrymore  corrected  him,  and  desired  an- 
other trial,  but  with  the  same  result — "  Open  the 
door  instantly,  OR  ! !" 

And  Mr.  Barrymore  impatiently  exclaimed : 
"  Good  God !  Mr.  Rasimi,  don't  you  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  words  ?  They're  simple 
enough — it's  a  threat  of  what  you'll  do  if  the 


152  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

door  ain't  opened.  You  mustn't  speak  it  in  that 
way — -it's  a  break." 

To  which  Rasimi  angrily  retorted  :     u  Do  you 

think  I'm  a  d d  fool  ?     Of  course  I  know 

what  it  means ;  I  know  it's  a  break — didn't  we 
rehearse  it  ?  Of  course  it's  a  break — he  opens 
the  window  and  breaks  a  jug  over  my  head !" 

Mr.  Barrymore  gave  it  up — the  Rasimi  read- 
ing prevailed. 

I  recall  with  great  pleasure  the  three  years  in 
which  I  was  a  member  of  the  "  National "  com- 
pany. The  associations  were  pleasant,  and 
friendships  life  enduring  were  formed.  Mr. 
Pelby  was  a  gentleman  of  rather  hasty  temper, 
but  just  in  his  dealings.  In  his  position  as 
actor  and  manager  animosities  would  inevitably 
arise,  but  he  was  always  open  to  conviction,  and 
was  ever  willing  to  right  a  wrong  or  overlook  a 
fault,  if  not  too  flagrant.  In  this  connection  I 
recall  a  little  incident.  I  was  rehearsing  a  very 
obnoxious,  disagreeable  part  in  some  melo-drama 
the  name  of  which  is  forgotten ;  the  last  speech 
before  making  my  final  exit  ended  with  what 
Rasimi  didn't  understand — a  break  ;  it  ran  some- 
thing like  this — 

• 

' '  My  prospects  in  life  blasted,  every  fair 

hope  crushed',  and  by  you,  my  bitter  foes  ;  may  vengeance 
reach  you.  I  shower  on  your  heads  the  curses  of  a  ruined 
man  !  And  now  I — I — "  (Exit,  guarded.) 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  153 

Annoyed  and  in  ill-temper  at  being  compelled 
to  play  a  part  against  which  I  had  protested  in 
vain — I  was,  without  doubt,  careless  whether  I 
was  right  or  wrong — and  wilfully  terminated  my 
speech,  as  Rasimi  ignorantly  terminated  his, 
thus — "  I  shower  on  your  heads  the  curses  of  a 
ruined  man,  and  now  I  exit  guarded."  Mr. 
Wright,  the  prompter,  half  laughing  said,  "  You'll 
not  say  that  at  night,  Mr.  Leman ;  "  to  which  I 
replied,  "  I  don't  know,  perhaps  I  will ; "  and 
Wright  answered,  "  I  hope  not,  the  old  man  will  be 
in  the  pound,  and  if  you  say  it  there'll  be  trouble." 
The  "  old  man "  was  the  manager,  and  the 
"  pound,"  as  we  had  christened  it,  was  a  box  ad- 
joining the  orchestra,  communicating  by  a  door 
with  the  box  office,  in  which  Mr.  Pelby  used 
nightly  to  sit  and  scrutinize  the  performance ; 
anything  wfong  did  not  escape  him,  and  any- 
thing right  he  was  always  willing  to  acknowledge 
and  compliment,  and  he  was  a  pretty  able  critic. 
Well,  night  came,  and  sure  enough  the  "old 
man  "  was  in  the  "  pound  ;  "  but  I  had  nursed 
my  dissatisfaction  all  day,  and  when  I  came  to 
the  exit  speech,  I  gave  it  with  peculiar  energy, 
looking  directly  at  Mr.  Pelby,  as  I  shouted  out— 
"  And  now  I  exit  guarded."  I  saw  him  rise  from 
his  seat  as  I  made  my  exit,  and  he  met  me  in  the 
wing  with — "  well,  Walter,  you've  had  your  joke, 
but  when  you  go  to  the  office  on  salary  day,  I 


154  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

think  you'll  exit  forfeited"  He  spoke  the  truth  ; 
my  joke  cost  me  ten  dollars — or  it  would  have 
cost  me  that  sum — had  not  the  manager,  with  a 
little  friendly  advice,  remitted  the  fine. 

In  the  summer  of  1838,  a  portion  of  the  com- 
pany rusticated  in  the  then  pleasant  village,  now 
city,  of  Waltham.  The  Massasoit  House,  a  hand- 
some hotel,  had  just  been  erected,  and  by  invitation 
of,  and  with  the  assistance  of  some  young  gentle- 
men amateurs,  a  short  series  of  performances  was 
given  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel.  This  pleasant  sum- 
mer divertisement  introduced  me  to  three  gentle- 
men, all  of  whom  became  my  life-long  friends ;  two 
of  the  three  have  been  prominent  in  various  posi- 
tions of  honor  and  trust,  and  the  third,  many  years 
since  achieved  a  national  reputation.  I  will  speak 
first  of  him.  General  Nathaniel  P.  Banks,  was 
at  the  time  a  machinist,  in  the  employment  of 
the  Waltham  Cotton  Manufacturing  Company, 
an  ambitious  youth,  without  influence,  fortune  or 
powerful  friends,  but  possessing  a  spirit  of  stern 
determination  and  great  fixedness  of  purpose.  I 
think  that  if  he  had  adopted  the  stage  as  his  pro- 
fession he  would  have  reached  an  eminent  position ; 
he  was  the  star  of  our  amateur  friends,  and  his  per- 
formance of  "  Damon  "  packed  the  hall.  Subse- 
quently he  played  "  Claude  Melnotte  "  at  the 
"  National/'  for  his  friend  Haynes'  benefit,  and 
played  it  well,  too.  Beginning  life  as  "  Bobbin- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  155 

boy,"  he  became  "  Amateur  Actor,"  "  Editor," 
"  Inspector  of  Customs,"  "  Town  Representative," 
"  State  Senator,"  "  Speaker  of  Massachusetts 
House  of  Representatives,"  "  Governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts," "  Member  of  U.  S.  House  of  Represen- 
tatives," "Speaker  of  that  Body,"  "Railroad 
Manager,"  "  Major-General  of  Volunteers,"  and 
again  "  Member  of  Congress  ;"  such  a  record 
speaks  for  itself,  and  demands  no  comment. 
Gen'l  Banks,  when  I  first  knew  him,  possessed  a 
well-built  figure,  an  expressive  eye  and  a  nimble 
foot,  and  at  the  Central  House  balls,  which  we 
used  to  enjoy  so  much,  could  lead  down  the 
middle  and  cast-off,  in  "  Money  Musk "  and 
"  Hull's  Victory,"  with  as  much  activity  and 
more  grace  than  any  dancer  in  the  room.  I 
have  seen  General  Banks  but  three  times  within 
the  last  thirty  years.  I  believe  that  he  is  now  a 
resident  of  Boston.  He  is  one  of  my  pleasant 
memories — long  may  he  live  ! 

The  second  of  this  trio  of  old  friends,  is  the 
Hon.  Gideon  Haynes.  Like  Banks,  he  was,  and 
still  is,  a  perfect  specimen  of  physical  humanity, 
and  could  wrestle  with  any  competitor  of  his 
weight,  coming  out  the  victor  in  four  trials  out 
of  five.  He  had  a  decided  inclination  for  the 
stage,  and  became  a  member  of  the  "  National  " 
company,  and  also  of  the  "  Tremont ;  "  but  a 
restive  spirit  drove  him  to  other  fields.  He  be- 


156  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

came  prominent  in  politics,  and  was  for  many 
years  Warden  of  the  Massachusetts  State  Prison, 
which  office  he  filled  with  the  highest  credit,  in- 
troducing wise  reforms,  and  leaving  the  institu- 
tion in  the  most  prosperous  condition.  Perhaps 
the  best  epitome  of  my  old  friend's  career  and 
character  will  be  found  in  the  annexed  extract 
from  a  letter  received  from  him  in  response  to  an 
invitation  to  attend  my  golden  wedding.  If  it 
meets  his  eye,  I  know  "  Gid  "  will  forgive  me  for 
making  his  letter  an  u  open  "  one. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  fifty  years  have 

passed  since  that  event  ?  A  glance  into  the  mirror  reminds 
me  that  time  rolls  on,  but,  although  approaching  the  seven- 
ties, I  am,  in  feelings,  as  youthful  as  when  we  were  knocking 
about  in  the  old  '  Tremont. '  How  few  of  those  we  knew  in 
the  old  days  are  left — how  many  have  passed  '  over  the  river. ' 

' '  My  life  has  been  rather  an  eventful  one — merchant,  ma- 
chinist, actor,  senator,  warden  of  state  prison  for  fourteen  years, 
crossed  the  Atlantic  eight  times,  spent  ten  years  in  Brazil, 
kept  boarding  houses  and  hotels,  had  two  wives  and  seventeen 
children.  The  twenty-ninth  of  last  August  was  the  thirty- 
ninth  anniversary  of  my  first  marriage,  and  the  fifth  of  No- 
vember the  twenty-fifth  of  my  second  ;  and  here  I  am  to-day, 
as  fresh  as  a  daisy  and  as  happy  as  a  prince,  and  would  like 
nothing  better  than  to  lead  Mrs.  L.  down  a  contra-dance  of 
twenty-five  couples,  as  we  used  to  do  in  '  ye  ancient  times. ' 

' '  My  four  eldest  daughters  and  one  son  have  married  hap- 
pihr,  and  are  all  settled  near  me,  with  lots  of  grandchildren. " 
###".fc*#* 

I  think  that  letter  proclaims  the  kind  of  man 
my  old  friend,  Gid.  Haynes,  is;  God  bless  him. 
I  greet  him  with  an  "  all  hail !" 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  157 

The  third  of  the  trio  of  old  friends,  the  last 
and  best  beloved,  is  now  no  more.  The  Hon. 
Nathan  Porter  was  some  six  or  eight  years  my 
junior.  He  adopted  the  stage  as  a  profession, 
and  made  rapid  advancement,  but  the  fascinations 
of  political  life  won  him  from  his  first  love,  and 
he  left  the  stage,  studied  law,  and  entered  on  an 
active  public  career.  He  took  high  rank  as  a 
debater  in  the  Senate  of  his  native  State,  and  at 
the  bar  was  known  as  a  forcible  and  logical 
pleader.  In  1853,  he  removed  to  California,  was 
chosen  District  Attorney  for  the  city  and  county 
of  San  Francisco,  and  Right  Worshipful  Grand 
Representative  of  the  I.  O.  O.  F.  of  California. 
He  had  j  ust  entered  on  his  legislative  career,  as 
a  member  of  the  State  Senate,  from  Alameda 
County,  when  death  cut  short  his  useful  and  hon- 
orable life,  at  the  age  of  sixty-one  years.  He 
was  borne  to  the  tomb  with  sincere  manifesta- 
tions of  public  and  private  regard ;  and,  among 
many  others,  I,  as  an  old  friend,  had  the  privi- 
lege of  laying  my  chaplet  of  remembrance  upon 
his  bier.  I  trust  I  may  be  pardoned  for  intro- 
ducing here  a  brief  extract  from  what  I  then  said, 
for  all  life  long  Nathan  Porter  was  my  best,  my 
dearest  friend ;  his  name  and  fame  are  among 
my  dearest  "  Memories." 

*       *       *        "I  should  be  doing  an  injustice  to  Nathan 
Porter  to  place  my  humble  tribute  to  his  memory  upon  the 


158  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

ground  of  personal  friendship  alone  ;  in  him  there  was  a  cath- 
olicity of  humanity  that  went  out  beyond  friends  and  kindred 
and  home  ;  it  embraced  the  members  of  the  profession  which 
he  honored  by  his  character  and  adorned  by  his  talents  ;  it 
went  out  to  the  members  of  that  grand  association  who  in 
him  found  the  truest  exemplar  of  their  motto  :  "  Friendship, 
Love  and  Tnith  ;"  it  went  out  to  mankind  and  to  the  world. 
He  had  not  only  the  largest  charity  for  the  frailties  of  human- 
ity, but  he  had  planted  within  him  a  most  unalterable  deter- 
mination to  maintain  the  right  and  condemn  the  wrong, 
whether  the  wrong  rode  in  silk  and  purple,  or  grovelled  in 
wretchedness  and  rags — the  slave  of  no  dogma,  his  religion 
was  his  blameless  life.  As  son — brother — husband — father — 
friend  and  man  there  is  no  blot  on  his  stainless  escutcheon  ; 
the  blandishments  and  temptations  of  official  station,  that  too 
often  dim  the  brightest  shield,  never  placed  a  smirch  upon  the 
blazonry  of  his.  As  between  right  and  wrong,  his  honest 
voice  never  gave  forth  an  uncertain  sound ;  in  the  path  of 
duty  he  could  be  seduced  by  no  sop  and  conquered  by  no 
valor.  In  short,  to  sum  his  character  in  little,  his  life  was 
gentle,  and  in  him  the  elements  blended  so  graciously,  that 
nature  stood  up  and  said  to  all  the  world  :  "Here  is  a  man  !" 

In  those  days,  as  in  ours,  it  was  an  act  of 
courtesy,  as  well  as  a  matter  of  good  policy,  for 
the  management  to  invite  notable  strangers  to 
the  theatre.  Among  the  many  distinguished 
individuals  who  attended  the  performance  as 
public  guests,  I  recall  General  Jackson,  and  can 
see  him  as  he  stood  up  in  the  box,  very  tall,  and 
as  straight  as  an  arrow,  holding  the  broad- 
brimmed  white  beaver  hat,  one  side  of  which  was 
permanently  turned  up  by  the  constant  clutch 
of  his  hand,  while  he  bowed  bareheaded  to  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  159 

thousands,  who  welcomed  him  with  continual 
cheers. 

Davy  Crockett  was  another  invited  guest ;  he 
was  a  man  of  medium  size,  clean  shaved,  clad  in 
black,  and  looked  more  like  a  clergyman  than  a 
fighter.  He  was  very  curious  to  see  everything  in 
the  u  play-house,"  and  wanted  an  introduction  to 
all  the  actors  and  all  the  ladies.  His  wish  was 
gratified,  and  from  the  green-room  he  went  to  the 
flies,  the  paint-room,  under  the  stage,  and  every- 
where, and  evinced  all  the  interest  in  what  he 
saw  that  a  child  exhibits  with  a  new  doll ;  and 
he  excited  an  equal  interest  which  would  have 
been  painfully  increased  could  we  have  known 
that  within  two  years  he  would  lie  a  stark  and 
bloody  corpse,  with  fifty  gaping  wounds,  sur- 
rounded by  a  holocaust  of  slain  foes  in  the  mem- 
orable Alamo. 

Still  another  visitor  I  remember,  but  unlike 
Andrew  Jackson,  not  the  idol  of  the  people.  Aaron 
Burr  came  to  the  theatre  uninvited,  perhaps  to 
seek  a  momentary  forgetfulness  of  himself,  and 
of, what  he  might  have  been  to  the  people  he 
sought  to  betray.  Mr.  Burr  came  very  quietly 
to  Boston,  where  he  remained  some  two  or  three 
days,  lodging  at  the  Tremont  House ;  no  notice 
other  than  a  mere  line  or  two  in  the  papers  was 
taken  of  his  arrival,  and  one  evening,  in  company 
with  two  gentlemen,  he  took  seats  in  the  theatre ; 


160  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

it  was  soon  buzzed  round  that  Aaron  Burr  was  in 
front,  and  he  became  the  object  of  curious,  but 
not  offensive  observation.  As  he  entered,  the  cur- 
tain was  just  going  up  on  the  "Falls  of  Clyde" 
In  this  little  drama,  Edward  Enfield,  the  brother 
of  the  heroine,  Ellen,  taunts  the  young  Laird 
Kenmure,  upon  false  grounds  of  suspicion,  into 
a  duel,  and  after  Kenmure's  pistol  has  missed,  re- 
turns the  fire  and  slays  him  ;  it  seemed  a  fatality 
that  of  all  pieces  in  the  drama,  Mr.  Burr  should 
have  come,  for  the  last  visit  that  probably  he  ever 
made  to  a  theatre,  to  witness  a  scene  so  forcibly 
recalling  his  fatal  duel  with  Hamilton.  Every 
eye  in  the  house  was  turned  upon  him,  as  "  Ken- 
mure  "  fell,  and  I  think  there  was  not  a  man  or 
woman  in  the  audience  that  did  not,  at  that  mo- 
ment, pity  Aaron  Burr.  Within  a  short  time  he 
rose,  and  with  his  friends  left  the  theatre ;  he 
was  not  present  more  than  twenty  minutes  alto- 
gether. He  died  about  two  years  after  on  Staten 
Island,  over  eighty  years  old. 

Among  the  engagements  of  those  early  years, 
Mr.  Frederick  Brown  was  for  a  time  at  the  "Tre- 
mont,"  I  forget  the  exact  date.  Mr.  Brown  had 
been  an  actor  of  prominence,  and  was  a  popular 
London  favorite.  He  is  the  hero  of  the  amusing 
pantomime  story  recorded  in  Mr.  Murdoch's 
work,  "  The  Stage."  The  equestrian  drama  of 
the  "  Cataract  of  the  Ganges,"  was  revived  with 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  161 

great  splendor,  Mr.  Brown  playing  "  Mokarra." 
In  this  character  he  wore  a  long,  full  robe  of 
white,  reaching  to  his  feet,  and  made  his  entrance 
in  a  chariot  from  beneath  the  stage,  drawn  by  six 
horses.  Dismounting  from  the  chariot  and  ad- 
vancing down  the  crowded  stage  amidst  the  glare 
of  innumerable  torches,  instantaneously,  as  quick 
as  thought,  his  whole  dress,  from  his  feet  to  his 
head,  was  in  a  blaze.  There  was  a  momentary 
thrill  of  horror,  which  was  relieved  almost  as 
quickly  as  it  was  aroused,  for  the  flame  was 
merely  the  ignition  of  the  furzy  cotton  surface 
of  his  costume,  and  went  out  as  quickly  as  it  is 
kindled.  It  was  rather  a  startling  incident,  and 
brought  out  a  great  peal  of  applause  when  Mr. 
Brown,  unhurt,  went  on  with  his  part. 

I  remember  an  amusing  incident  which  hap- 
pened in  those  early  days,  when  a  young  gentle- 
man in  a  subordinate  position,  completely  turned 
the  laugh  on  the  stage  manager,  Mr.  George 
Barrett.  It  was  in  Sheridan's  farce  of  the 
"  Critic,"  which  is,  in  point  of  fact,  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham's  "  Rehearsal,"  with  another  name. 

Mr.  Barrett  was  very  fond  of  playing  "  Puff," 
the  author,  and  great  license  was  admitted  in  the 
language  and  business  of  the  play  within  the 
play,  which  forms  the  comic  element  of  the  piece, 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  cast  to  the  several 
parts  in  "  Mr.  Puff's"  play  having  ^carte-blanche 


1 62  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

to  make  any  rejoinder  or  reply  not  violating  the 
rnles  of  propriety  or  good  taste.  The  young 
actor  was  playing  the  "  Beefeater,"  and  has  to 
withdraw  from  the  scene  with — 

"  I  never  can  endure  a  rival's  bliss, 
But,  soft — I  am  observed  ! ' ' 

He  spoke  his  lines  and  went  off,  when  Mr. 
Barrett  called  him  back  with — "  Yon  mustn't 
make  your  exit  that  way  ;  you  mustn't  bolt  off, 
you  must  steal  off.  Please  try  it  again."  Again 
it  was  tried,  and  again  he  was  called  back  by 
Mr.  Barrett.  "I  told  you  not  to  bolt  off;  you 
mustn't  go  off  so  abruptly ;  you  must  steal  off. 
Can't  you  do  it  thus  ?  You  look  as  if  you  knew 
how  to  steal."  There  was  a  laugh  here  at  the 
expense  of  the  "  Beefeater,"  which  he  turned  up- 
on Barrett,  by  retorting,  "  I  haven't  had  so  much 
practice  in  stealing  as  you  have,  Mr.  Barrett;  I 
haven't  been  manager  for  twenty  years." 

There  was  a  little  man,  named  Knaggs,  in  the 
theatre  for  several  seasons.  He  was  a  kind  of 
dried-up  man ;  and  if  he  had  any  heroics  to  utter, 
always  set  the  audience  to  laughing.  Under  Mr. 
Barrymore's  management,  the  spectacle  play  of 
"  Napoleon  "  was  produced.  It  was  full  of  bat- 
tles and  tableaux  and  marches,  and  one  of  the 
grand  scenes  which  Mr.  Barryrnore  particularly 
prided  himself  on,  was  the  pageant  burial  of 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  163 

Marshal  Lannes.  Everybody  was  in  the  piece, 
and  some  of  the  company  had  to  double.  At  the 
last  moment,  a  man  was  wanted  to  lead  the  bur- 
ial cortege  and  speak  the  speech  to  the  soldiers, 
recounting  the  virtues  of  the  hero  Lannes. 
Knaggs  was  enlisted,  and  was  in  the  middle  of 
his  speech  of  six  lines — which  was  quite  as  much 
as  he  could  carry — when  he  stopped  abruptly 
and  exclaimed — "But,  Mr.  Barrymore,  I'm  bury- 
ing myself!" — and  so  he  was;  he  had  played 
"  Marshal  Lannes  "  in  the  previous  act,  and  no 
one  chanced  to  remember  it.  Barrymore  scratched 
his  head,  puzzled  what  to  do,  but  every  man  in 
the  company  was  busy  with  something  to  do,  and 
he  said,  finally — "  Never  mind,  Knaggs;  bury 
yourself;  they'll  never  find  it  out,  and  if  they 
do  it's  no  matter." 

Knaggs  used  to  make  some  funny  mistakes. 
On  one  occasion,  when  everybody  was  full  of  the 
United  States  Bank,  and  the  removal  of  the  de- 
posits, the  comedy  of  the  "Hypocrite"  was  per- 
formed. Mr.  Knaggs  played  the  officer  who  en- 
ters in  the  last  scene  to  arrest  Dr.  Cantwell.  The 
text  reads  thus  : — "  Is  your  name  Cantwell  ?  "  to 
which  the  Doctor  replies,  "  Yes,"  and  is  told  that 
"  I  have  my  Lord  Chief-Justice's  warrant  against 
you."  "  For  what?"  asks  the  Doctor,  and  is 
answered,  "  For  a  cheat  and  impostor."  Knaggs 
was  all  right  with  the  first  question,  but  his  sec- 


164  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

ond  part  read — "  Then  I  have  my  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice Taney  against  you."  "  What !"  cried  the 
doctor,  and  Knaggs  repeated  the  assertion  more 
positively  than  at  first.  It  was  evident  that  Gen- 
eral Jackson  and  the  Supreme  Court  had  got 
into  his  brain. 

But  greater  men  than  Mr.  Knaggs  often  make 
mistakes.  A  list  of  misreadings  and  transposi- 
tions of  words,  perpetrated  on  the  stage  through 
inadvertence,  momentary  abstraction  and  other 
causes,  would  fill  a  volume.  In  the  fourth  act 
of  the  "Gamester,"  there  is  a  scene  between 
"Mrs.  Beverley"  and  "  Stukely,"  in  which,  for 
the  basest  purposes,  "Stukely"  vilifies  the  char- 
acter of  her  husband,  without  at  first  mentioning 
the  name  of  the  man  he  slanders ;  "  Mrs.  Bev- 
erley" at  length  demands  to  know,  imperatively 
exclaiming : 

"  How  injured  ?  and  who  has  injured  me  ?" 

And  "Stukely"  replies:  "My  friend — your 
husband." 

On  the  first  night  that  Miss  Fanny  Kemble 
played  "  Mrs.  Beverley,"  the  "  Stukely  "  of  the 
evening  answered  her  inquiry  of  "Who  has  in- 
jured me?"  by  emphatically  replying,  "Your 
friend — my  husband  !"  It  was  a  very  elegant 
audience  that  filled  the  theatre,  but  to  suppress 
the  laugh  was  impossible. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  165 

I  once  heard  a  young  lady  on  the  stage  declare 
that  she  "had  been  roaming  in  the  flower-garden 
among  a  wilderness  of  red  and  white  noses" 
And  an  actor  once  assured  me,  in  confirmation 
of  the  truth  of  what  he  had  heard,  that  "  There 
is  not  the  sloughtest  dite,  my  lord." 

In  the  summer  of  1841,  I  was  playing  for  a 
short  season  in  Providence,  where  a  new  theatre 
had  been  opened  by  Mr.  W.  H.  Russell.  One 
of  the  first  engagements  was  that  of  Mrs.  Sey- 
mour, who  was  announced  as  from  "  Co  vent 
Garden"  and  "Drury  Lane."  The  lady  may 
have  been  in  Covent  Garden  and  Drury  Lane — 
in  the  boxes ;  but  I  hardly  think  she  had  acted 
there,  in  any  other  than  a  very  subordinate  posi- 
tion. She  was  an  exceedingly  beautiful  woman, 
married  to  a  wealthy  gentleman  much  older  than 
herself,  who  took  great  delight  in  her  acting,  and 
was  willing  to  pay  for  it.  Most  of  the  younger 
members  of  the  company,  and  of  the  elder  ones 
too,  were  fascinated  by  the  personal  charms  of 
Mrs.  S. ;  indeed,  she  was  a  woman  to  excite 
admiration  anywhere. 

I  played  "Romeo"  to  this  lady's  "Juliet." 
The  play  in  those  days  used  generally  to  end 
with  the  revival  of  Juliet  from  the  narcotic,  and 
her  dual  death  with  Romeo ;  at  the  rehearsal  I 
had  brought  the  lady  from  the  tomb,  and  we 


1 66  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

were  discussing  the  arrangement  for  a  "  double 
fall"  upon  the  stage,  entwined  in  each  other's 
arms — which  is  a  very  pretty  piece  of  stage 
business,  if  properly  executed — and  had  re- 
hearsed it  in  one  way  and  then  in  another,  Mrs. 
S.  being  very  desirous  that  it  should  be  effective 
at  night,  and  saying,  "  Is  this  way  the  best — or 
the  other  ?  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Leman  ? 
how  do  you  feel  ?" 

Among  others,  George  Locke  —  afterwards 
Yankee  Locke — was  standing  in  the  wing ;  he 
was  then  a  novice.  After  rehearsal  he  accosted 
me  with  :  "  Do  you  know  how  I  envied  you — 
and  she  asked  you  '  how  you  felt.'  By  Jove  !  I 
don't  know  how  you  felt,  but  if  I  had  been  in 
your  place,  and  that  beautiful  woman  had  asked 
me  how  /  felt — my  feelings  would  have  been  too 
big  for  utterance." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Theatre  Royal,  Montreal — Mr.  Tuthill — Mr.  Charles  Dickens 
as  an  Actor — Walnut  St.  Theatre,  Philadelphia — Mr. 
William  Macready — Miss  Cushman — Mr.  Wm.  Wheatley's 
' '  Delicious  Half-hour, "  — "  My  Delicious  Half-hour ' ' — Mr. 
D.  Rice  Counts  "Twenty" — The  Lax  Rehearsal — Mr. 
Edward  Davenport — Mr.  Spear — Miss  Cushman  and  Mr. 
Blake — Mr.  Peter  Richings — Miss  Caroline  Richings — 
Mr.  George  Jamison — "  Smithey  " — Mr.  William  B. 
Wood— Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Wallack,  Jr.— The  "Battle  of 
Germantown  " — Song  of  the  Rangers — "Freedom's  last 
Martyr  " — ' '  Campaign  of  the  Rio  Grande  " — The  ' '  Prairie 
Bird" — Birthday  Poem. 

I  SPENT  the  summer  of  1842,  in  the  city  of 
Montreal ;  the  manager  of  the  theatre  was  Mr. 
Latham,  and  his  stage  manager  was  Mr.  Tuthill. 
I  think  old  New  Yorkers  must  remember  "  Paddy 
Tuthill  " — never  a  more  genial  soul  lived — he 
was  not  a  very  good  actor,  but  had  the  common 
weakness  to  think  himself  one  ;  but  he  was  a  good 
dresser,  off  as  well  as  upon  the  stage,  and  the 
possession  of  a  considerable  income  enabled  him 
to  indulge  a  fancy  for  over-dressing,  to  the  extent 


1 68  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

sometimes  of  two  and  three  different  suits  in  one 
day — a  velvet  coat  in  the  morning,  flannel  suit 
at  noon,  and  dress  coat  in  the  evening.  I  first 
became  acquainted  with  Mr.  William  Wheatley 
in  Montreal ;  an  acquaintance  which  grew  into 
friendship  in  after  years.  I  shall  have  further 
occasion  to  speak  of  him.  Miss  Melton,  a  very 
popular  vocalist  of  that  period,  Hackett  and  T. 
D.  Rice  (Jim  Crow),  were  also  with  the  company 
for  a  few  nights  ;  but  my  especial  memory  of  that 
summer  is  Mr.  Charles  Dickens.  Three  or  four 
performances  were  given  by  the  "  Garrison  Ama- 
teurs " — aided  by  the  ladies  of  the  company — and 
I  saw  Mr.  Dickens  in  two  characters  "  Alfred 
Highflyer"  and  "  Snobbington."  Very  many  years 
after  I  heard  Mr.  Dickens  on  the  lecture  plat- 
form, and  he  appeared  to  more  advantage  there 
when  old,  than  when  young,  on  the  stage.  I 
know  that  at  the  time,  I  thought  him  rather 
flippant  than  lively  ;  he  delivered  his  dialogue  so 
rapidly  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  follow 
him.  I  trust  I  shall  not  be  thought  invidious  in 
speaking  thus  of  the  amateur  performance,  even 
of  so  great  a  man  as  Dickens.  I  speak  not  as  a 
critic,  but  simply  as  an  observer. 

In  1843,  I  was  engaged  by  Mr.  Thomas  S. 
Hamblin,  for  the  Bowery  Theatre,  New  York, 
where,  in  the  month  of  August,  I  reported  for 
service,  and  opened  as  "  Banquo,"  Mr.  John  R. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  169 

Scott  being  the  "Macbeth."  It  took  but  little  time 
for  me  to  know  that  I  was  misplaced,  and  stating 
frankly  to  Mr.  Hamblin  that  I  wished  a  release, 
he  courteously  granted  it ;  and  I  immediately 
joined  Mr.  E.  A.  Marshal,  with  whom  I  had  been 
in  correspondence.  I  remained  at  the  "  Bowery  " 
Theatre  but  two  weeks  ;  proceeding  immediately 
to  Philadelphia,  I  was  enrolled  by  Mr.  Marshal 
as  a  member  of  the  "  Walnut  St."  company — the 
"  Chestnut  St."  Theatre  being  at  the  same  time 
under  his  control.  My  old  friend  William  Rufus 
Blake  was  stage  manager,  and  the  acting  manager 
was  Miss  Charlotte  Cushman.  The  company  was 
a  strong  one,  including  among  the  ladies — Miss 
Susan  Cushman,  Miss  Alexina,  Fisher,  Mrs. 
Thayer,  Mrs.  Blake,  Mrs.  Win.  Jones  and  Mrs. 
Mossop,  and  among  the  gentlemen — W.  R.  Blake, 
J.  M.  Field,  better  known  as  u  Straws " — the 
father  of  Miss  Kate  Field — Henkins,  Hadaway, 
E.  L.  Davenport,  and  others.  In  October,  Mr. 
W.  H.  Macready,  made  his  first  appearance  at 
the  Chestnut  St.  Theatre  as  "Hamlet."  This  was 
the  first  time  I  had  been  brought  into  professional 
association  with  this  famous  actor — born,  one 
might  say,  almost  in  the  theatre.  His  father 
being  a  well-known  provincial  manager,  he  had 
every  opportunity  for  studying  his  art  and  its 
professors,  and  he  stood  confessedly  at  the  head 
of  his  school  of  acting,  which  was  founded  rather 


170  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

on  the  Kemble  theory,  than  on  the  system  of 
Garrick,  or  Mossop,  or  Kean.  I  had  seen  Mr. 
Macready  nearly  twenty  years  before,  when  I  was 
bnt  a  boy,  and  the  remembrance  of  that  first 
night,  when  as  "  Virginius  "  he  stirred  my  senses, 
and  awoke  my  admiration,  which  was  blended  with 
a  kind  of  stage-fright  at  acting  with  one  who  had 
the  character  among  the  profession  of  being  so 
particular  and  methodic  that  a  breath  mis-breathed 
would  put  him  off  his  balance,  and  a  syllable 
mis-placed  would  stop  the  action  of  the  whole 
machine.  This  feeling  was  more  or  less  prevalent 
with  all  '  the  members  of  the  company.  Miss 
Charlotte  Cushman  played  the  "Queen"  to  Mac- 
ready's  "  Hamlet,"  and  he  was  so  well  pleased 
with  the  lady,  that  he  chose  her  as  his  female 
support  in  his  subsequent  engagements,  and  thus 
made  the  way  to  her  London  career  feasible 
and  plain. 

Mr.  Blake,  knowing  Mr.  Macready's  peculiar- 
ities, was  especially  anxious  that  all  should  go 
right  while  Mr.  Macready  was  with  us,  and  in- 
deed all  went  very  well,  even  to  the  satisfaction 
on  the  whole  of  Mr.  Macready  himself,  although 
there  were  one  or  two  little  accidents  during  that 
memorable  engagement,  that  to  Kean,  or  Booth, 
or  even  Forrest,  would  have  been  as  nothing,  but 
came  very  near  upsetting  Mr.  Macready.  One 
of  these  I  have  a  right  to  mention,  as  I  was  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  171 

innocent  delinquent.  It  occurred  towards  trie 
close  of  the  engagement,  when  "Hamlet"  was 
repeated.  But  first  I  will  allude  to  the  experi- 
ence of  my  friend  Mr.  William  Wheatley,  who 
played  the  supporting  seconds  to  the  star. 

It  happened  almost  every  night  that  on  the 
fall  of  the  curtain,  Mr.  Macready  would  send  his 
dresser  to  the  stage  manager  with  a  desire  that 
Mr.  So-and-So,  whoever  it  might  chance  to  be, 
should  be  sent  to  Mr.  Macready's  dressing-room, 
and,  with  more  or  less  of  fear  and  trembling,  the 
actors  would  go  to  hear  what  Mr.  Macready  had 
to  say ;  and  from  the  expression  on  their  faces 
when  they  emerged,  the  inference  was  drawn 
that  Macready's  remarks  had  not  been  over  com- 
plimentary. 

Mr.  Blake,  as  I  have  said,  was  extremely 
anxious  that  everyone  should  do  all  in  his  or 
her  power  to  please  the  exacting  star,  and  before 
the  rising  of  the  curtain  would  come  into  the 
green-room  and  say :  "  Now,  gentlemen  and 
ladies,  let  us  all  take  care  to  have  everything  go 
right  with  Mac. ;  be  very  particular  that  every- 
thing is  done  exactly  as  it  was  rehearsed  " — and 
when  the  actors  came  forth  from  Macready's 
room,  would  meet  them  with  a  satiric  smile  on 
his  handsome  face,  and  ask  what  "  Mac  "  had 
said,  assuring  them  that,  "of  course,  Mr.  Ma- 
cready had  only  sent  for  them  to  compliment 
their  performance." 


172  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Mr.  Wheatley  generally  escaped  these  inter- 
views, but  on  one  evening  Blake  came  running 
into  the  green-room  with :  "  Wheatley,  Mac  wants 
you — it's  your  turn  now ;"  and  Wheatley  went 
as  desired,  to  the  great  man's  room  ;  he  remained 
there  an  unusually  long  time,  and  on  coming 
out,  Blake,  who  had  all  the  time  been  on  the 
watch,  wanted  to  know  what  kept  him  so  long, 
and  what  Mac  had  been  saying  to  him.  From 
Mr.  Wheatley's  constrained  manner  and  un- 
pleased  look,  it  was  quite  apparent  that  the 
interview  had  not  been  altogether  satisfactory ; 
but  he  got  away  from  Blake  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble by  saying,  with  an  enforced  tone  of  cheerful- 
ness, that  "he  had  a  delicious  half-hour"  with 
Mr.  Macready.  Blake  gave  a  chuckle,  which 
bespoke  his  misdoubt  of  Wheatley's  report ;  and 
on  the  following  evening,  the  "Hamlet"  night, 
when  dressed  for  "  Polonius,"  came  into  the 
green-room,  and  in  his  inimitable  manner,  look- 
ing at  Wheatley,  wondered  who  would  have  the 
delicious  half-hour  with  Mac  to-night. 

I  played  the  "  King  of  Denmark,"  and  between 
the  last  two  acts  had  taken  off  my  sword,  and 
forgetfully  had  left  it  in  niy  dressing-room.  Just 
as  the  last  scene  was  being  drawn,  Miss  Cush- 
maii  said  to  me,  "  Mr.  Leman,  where's  your 
sword?  Your  sword  —  you've  forgotten  your 
sword.  Here,  somebody  bring  Mr.  Leman  a 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  173 

sword !"  And  the  property  man  had  barely 
time  to  place  in  my  hands  a  fencing-foil  as  the 
scene  opened.  The  play  progressed  to  its  close 
— Hamlet  disarmed  and  slew  the  King,  and  the 
curtain  fell.  I  went  to  my  room  and  was  begin- 
ning to  disrobe,  when  Blake  came  trotting  to  the 
door,  and  with  his  wicked  grin,  said  "  Walter, 
Mac  wants  you ;  you've  escaped  a  good  while, 
but  it's  your  turn  for  a  delicious  half-hour  now," 
and  following  me  out,  to  my  extreme  annoyance, 
added,  "  Egad !  I'll  go,  too  ;  I'm  stage  manager, 
and  I'll  hear  what  he  says;"  and  we  went  to- 
gether to  Mr.  Macready's  room.  On  the  way,  I 
asked  myself,  "did  I  by  any  possibility  drop  a 
word — did  I  misplace  or  give  a  wrong  cue  ?"  I 
could  recall  no  such  error. 

I  entered,  with  Blake  behind  me,  and  asked 
Mr.  Macready's  pleasure.  He  was  sitting  on  the 
sofa,  and  after  a  gasp  he  began — "  Mr.  Leman,  I 
— I  have  always  found  you — found  you  exceed- 
ingly careful,  and  —  and  very  attentive;  but 
where  did  you  get — where,  sir,  did  you  con — trive 
to  get " — here  he  gave  a  great  gasp — "  that  aw- 
ful tool,  that  skewer,  that — that — a — a  kitchen 
spit,  to  draw  it  on  me  for  a  regal  weapon,  whipping 
it  out  from  beneath  your  robe  like  a  ramrod ;  oh, 
sir!" — with  another  gasp — "it  so  affected  my 
nerves  that — "  Here  I  said,  "  Mr.  Macready,  will 
you  allow  me  to  explain" — and  he  broke  in,  hold- 


174  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

ing  up  his  hands  in  horror — "  My  dear  sir,  it 
can't  be  explained  " — with  another  gasp — "  it  ad- 
mits of  no  explanation.  Have  you  got  the  tool 
about  you  ?  You  knocked  me  up  in  my  dying 
speech ;  I — I  was  completely  unnerved."  Here 
he  paused  long  enough  for  me  to  say  that  as  it 
was  a  momentary  thing,  the  quality  of  the 
weapon  could  be  of  little  consequence  ;  that  being 
so  far  from  the  audience,  and  so  quickly  passing 
in  action,  the  sword  was,  in  fact,  hardly  seen. 
Here  he  rose  up  aghast.  "  My  dear  Mr.  Leman, 
hold,  enough !  enough  !  no  more  !  When,  in 
your  futile  explanations,  you  tell  me  'tis  of  no 
consequence,  because  the  audience  could  not  see 
its  quality,  you  shock  my  sensibilities ;  you — 
you — "  and  he  fell  with  another  gasp  upon  the 
sofa.  I  was  still  anxious  to  excuse  the  mishap, 
and  was  about  to  speak  again,  when  Blake,  who 
had  been  enjoying  the  scene  with  ill-suppressed 
mirth,  whispered,  "  Come  along,  Walter,"  and  we 
were  leaving,  when  Mr.  Macready,  having  partially 
recovered  from  his  emotions,  spoke  again.  "Mr. 
— eh — Mr. — Mr.  Blake!"  Blake  had  enjoyed 
my  rebuke,  and  I  thought  I'd  enjoy  his  ;  so,  when 
he  paused  I  did  the  same.  "  Mr. — Mr.  Blake — 
sir ;  I  regret  to  say  it,  sir,  but  you  nearly  de- 
stroyed my  best  scene  !  I  was  paralyzed  at  the 
impropriety  which  you  committed !  I  was 
shocked  in  the  play-scene  to  see  what  you  did ! 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  175 

You  laid — 3^5,  sir,  you  absolutely  laid  your  hand 
upon  the  king's  chair;  upon — the — king's — 
chair !  If  the  play  is  repeated,  I  hope — I — do- 
hope,  Mr.  Blake,  that  such  a  flagrant — flagrant 
outrage  on  regal  dignity  will  not  be  committed." 
Mr.  Blake  didn't  think,  after  seeing  the  fruitless- 
ness  of  my  attempted  explanation,  that  it  was 
worth  his  while  to  offer  any,  and  we  left  the  pres- 
ence. 

In  after  years  he  made  a  very  laughable  story 
of  that  interview,  and  confessed  that  his  friend 
Leman,  didn't  have  all  of  the  delicious  half-hour 
to  himself.  In  reality,  I  do  not  think  that,  apart 
from  Mr.  Macready,  anyone  in  the  house  noticed 
that  Mr.  Blake  chanced  to  put  his  hand  on  the 
back  of  the  king's  chair,  or  knew  that  the  king 
drew  a  foil  instead  of  a  sword.  It  was  a  ridicu- 
lous fuss  about  nothing. 

Many  stories  were  in  vogue  during  Mr.  Mac- 
ready's  professional  visits  to  America,  of  annoy- 
ances to  which  he  was  subjected,  in  one  of  which, 
Mr.  Decius  Rice,  the  "Jupiter  "  who  spoiled  Sin- 
clair's satin  dress,  figured.  Mr.  Rice's  business, 
in  the  last  scene  of  "Werner,"  was  to  catch  Mr. 
Macready  as  he  fell,  and  support  him  while  he 
uttered  his  dying  speech.  At  rehearsal,  Mr. 
Macready  said — "  You  will  hold  me,  thus,  while 
I  am  speaking,  and  do  not  lay  me  down  upon  the 
stage  until  you  have  mentally  counted  twenty. 


176  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

You  will  please  understand,  sir ;  and  be  particu- 
lar, no  matter  what  I  do,  whether  I  speak  slowly 
or  otherwise,  you  are  not  to  lay  me  down  until 
you  count  twenty  ;  thus,  one,  two,  three  " — indi- 
cating the  rapidity  with  which  the  mental  numer- 
ation was  to  be  made.  At  night,  Rice  got  Mac- 
ready  into  his  iron  grip,  and  either  because  the 
actor  had  been  too  rapid  in  his  speech,  or  Rice 
had  been  too  slow  in  his  counting,  he  had  only 
reached  to  about  ten,  when  Macready  said  to  him, 
sotto  voce,  "  Lay  me  down,  sir."  Rice  responded, 
"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  and  continued  slowly,  "  eleven, 
twelve,  thirteen."  Macready,  in  a  fume,  repeat- 
ed, "  Eh — good  G — d,  sir;  lay  me  down!"  Rice 
again  replied,  u  Oh,  no,  I  don't ;  you  told  me  to 
count  twenty,  and  I  mean  to  do  it,"  and  slowly 
went  on  to  "  eighteen,  nineteen,  twenty,"  and 
then  laid  the  tragedian  down  coolly  upon  the 
stage.  When  the  curtain  fell,  Macready  was 
speechless  with  anger,  but  "Jupiter"  rather  en- 
joyed the  joke. 

Another  story  was  current  of  Mr.  Macready's 
experience  with  a  company  whom  he  chanced  to 
play  with,  in  which  discipline  was  the  exception, 
and  negligence  the  rule.  Mr.  Macready  had 
depended  on  the  supporting  gentleman  who 
traveled  with  him.,  to  see  that  the  rehearsals  were 
properly  gone  through  with  ;  but  in  consequence 
of  neglect  and  inattention,  departed  on  one  occa- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  177 

sion  from  his  ordinary  rule,  and  came  to  the 
theatre  in  person  for  rehearsal,  which  progressed 
a  little  way,  when  Mr.  —  -  was  missing.  Mac- 
ready  was  told  by  the  prompter  that  Mr. 

had  gone  out,  and  requested  him  to  read  his  part. 
Macready  horrified  at  such  a  violation  of  disci- 
pline and  dramatic  propriety,  stopped  the  re- 
hearsal for  fifteen  minutes,  when  Mr. re- 
turned with  a  jaunty  air,  and  to  Mr.  Macready 's 
angry  comments  excused  himself  by  saying  that 
he  only  "  went  out  to  get  his  hat  ironed"  Mac- 
ready  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  gave  a  sup- 
pressed groan,  and  the  rehearsal  was  resumed ; 
when,  in  a  few  moments  more,  another  gentle- 
man, Mr. ,  was  missing  ;  again  the  rehearsal 

was  suspended.  Mr.  Macready  impatiently  dan- 
cing the  "  Mouchoir,"  which  met  with  Mr.  For- 
rest's disapprobation  in  Hamlet,  and  the  manager 
almost  equally  angry.  After  a  stop  of  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  the  delinquent  returned,  his  excuse 
for  causing  the  delay  was,  that  he  went  out  for  a 
"  snifter."  With  a  despairing  groan,  Mr.  Mac- 
ready  addressing  the  manager,  said  :  "  Mr. 

I  do  not,  sir,  understand  the — the  customs  of 
America ;  but  I — I — really  this  neglect  is  very — eh, 
very  extraordinary.  One  gentleman  tells  me,  after 
being  guilty  of  gross  neglect,  that  he  went  out  to 
get  his  '  hat  ironed,'  and  another  gentleman 
offers  as  an  excuse — that  he  only  went  out  for  a 


178  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

'  snifter.'  As  I  said  I — I — eh — I  am  not  familiar 
with  American  customs  or  phrases,  and — I — I— 
don't  know  what  a  '  snifter '  is — but  I — eh,  if  I 
might  ask  a  favor,  I  would  request  the  gentlemen 
who  iron  hats  and  dispense  '  snifters,'  to  suspend 
business  during  rehearsal." 

In  September,  the  company  was  transferred  to 
the  Walnut  St.  Theatre ;  where,  in  the  series  of 
old  comedies  with  which  the  season  commenced, 
I  remember  the  names  of  Miss  Cushman  and 
her  sister  Miss  Susan  Cushman,  Mr.  Edward 
Davenport  and  Mr.  Spear.  Mr.  Davenport  I  had 
known  since  the  early  days  of  the  Tremont,  to 
which  he  was  attached  for  one  season.  He  be- 
came a  prime  favorite  in  Philadelphia,  went 
thence  to  New  York,  and  eventually  to  England, 
attaining  high  artistic  rank,  and  at  his  death, 
which  took  place  some  years  since,  was  lamented, 
not  only  as  a  man  and  gentleman,  but  also,  as 
one  of  the  foremost  actors  on  the  American  stage. 
George  G.  Spear,  I  had  also  long  known;  he  was 
another  Boston  boy,  a  graduate  of  Mr.  Pelby's, 
and  a  participant  in  our  Waltham  summer  the- 
atricals, and  also  in  our  Waltham  winter  balls,  at 
the  Central  House  in  that  pretty  village — now 
city — which  still  stands,  or  did  a  year  ago,  as  in 
the  days  of  yore.  I  remember,  very  well,  on  one 
occasion,  how  we  started  from  the  theatre,  at  the 
close  of  the  performance,  in  a  u  one-horse  shay  " 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  179 

the  common  driving  vehicle  of  the  time  to  go  to 
the  ball — it  was  but  an  hour  and  a  half  from  the 
city,  and  a  light  snow-storm  coming  on.  Old 
Spear — he  was  never  called  anything  else  but 
Old  Spear — who  would  insist  on  driving,  although 
he  knew  nothing  about  it,  got  the  lines  crossed, 
turned  the  horse  round,  and  swore  he  was  "  all 
right,"  against  my  assertion  that  he  was  "  all 
wrong,"  until  the  lights  on  East  Cambridge 
bridge  convinced  him  that  he  was  going  back  to 
Boston,  and  not  to  Waltham.  Mr.  Spear  was  for 
some  years  attached  to  the  "  Walnut,"  and  after- 
wards went  to  California  in  the  early  days.  He 
is  now  an  inmate  of  the  "  Forrest  Home." 

Miss  Charlotte  Cushman  withdrew  from  the 
theatre,  I  think,  before  the  close  of  the  season — 
there  was  always  a  something — which  if  not 
belligerency  was  at  least  armed  neutrality  be- 
tween Miss  Cushman  and  Mr.  Blake.  Pre- 
eminent as  the  lady  was,  even  at  that  time,  in 
tragic  power,  she  was  not  so  happy  in  comedy ; 
and  she  played  all  the  best  of  it;  indeed,  she  played 
the  best  of  everything  in  the  female  line.  In  all 
the  comedy  scenes  between  the  lady  and  gentle- 
man, Blake  had  the  "  call "  with  the  audience. 
Miss  Cushman  possessed  a  large  amount  of  per- 
sonal ambition,  and  never  missed  a  chance  to 
obtain  or  wield  a  social  sway.  Her  sister  had 
become  a  member  of  a  certain  female  organization 


180  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

presumably  in  furtherance  of  this  object,  and 
Blake  would  come  into  the  green-room  and  make 
ludicrous  inquiries  about  the  prospects  of  the 
"  organization  for  promoting  the  entrance  of 
actresses  into  the  upper  ten  sphere,"  and  ask 
about  the  income  and  prospects  of  "  the  female 
sacred  button-hole  society."  Miss  Cushman 
would  give  Blake  a  very  meaning  look  at  such 
times.  I  think  that  it  would  have  been  almost 
impossible  for  them  to  dwell  in  professional  unity, 
and  no  doubt  the  separation  was  agreeable  to 
both. 

Mr.  Peter  Richings  succeeded  Mr.  Blake  in 
the  position  of  stage  manager.  There  is  proba- 
bly no  actor  better  known,  traditionally,  than 
Mr.  Richings ;  indeed,  theatre-goers  of  this  gen- 
eration cannot  have  forgotten  the  tall,  finely-built, 
dignified,  scholarly  gentleman,  who  when  young 
was  for  years  a  New  York  favorite,  and  at  a  later 
period  starred  through  the  length  and  breadth  of 
the  land  with  his  accomplished  daughter,  the 
fine  singer,  and  perhaps  the  most  thorough  mu- 
sician of  her  day,  Miss  Caroline  Richings.  Mr. 
Richings  was  a  versatile  actor,  and  noted  as  one 
of  the  best  dressers  on  the  stage.  I  knew  him 
for  a  long  time,  and  met  him  in  after  years  on  the 
Pacific  Slope — ever  and  always  a  perfect  gentle- 
man. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  181 

I  first  knew  Mr.  George  Jamison  in  Philadel- 
phia. This  gentleman,  whose  name  was  after- 
wards so  unhappily  associated  with  the  domestic 
infelicities  of  Mr.  Forrest,  possessed  most  won- 
derful and  versatile  mimic  powers ;  with  little 
effort  and  ordinary  application,  he  conld  have 
rivalled  Matthews.  His  first  appearance  on  the 
stage  was  in  a  protean  character,  or  rather  char- 
ters, in  his  native  city,  New  York.  I  believe  the 
occasion  was  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Charles  Eaton,  of 
whom  I  have  already  spoken.  Mr.  Jamison  vis- 
ited England  subsequently,  and  I  played  with 
him  at  a  later  day  in  New  Orleans.  I  think  I 
never  knew  a  more  perfect  "chameleon,"  if  the 
term  may  be  applied  in  a  dramatic  sense,  than 
Mr.  Jamison ;  he  was  an  impressive  actor  of 
tragedy,  and  could  play  "  Brutus,"  "  Macbeth," 
"Jeremiah  Clip,"  and  "  Old  Pete"  in  the  "Octo- 
roon" equally  well.  Mr.  Jamison  lost  his  life 
by  being  run  down  on  the  Hudson  River  Rail- 
road, in  1868. 

Another  gentleman,  whom  I  first  knew  in 
Philadelphia,  and  knew  for  many  years  after  on 
both  sides  of  the  Continent,  is  Mr.  Joseph  Smith 
— "  Smithy,"  as  he  is  called,  or  more  often, 
"  Little  Smithey."  Mr.  Smith  always  had  and 
has,  I  presume,  to  this  day,  an  absolute  immu- 
nity from  defilement  by  contact  with  any  dirt, 
dust,  soil,  or  any  substance  whatever ;  indeed,  it 


1 82  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

would  never  adhere  to  him.  In  after  years,  when 
we  traveled  the  mountain  roads  of  California  in 
company,  while  I  would  dismount  from  the  stage 
coach  black  and  begrimmed  with  dust,  Smithey 
would  step  down  looking  neat  as  a  bridegroom. 
I  have  always  thought  he  possessed  some  charm 
to  preserve  his  personally  neat  appearance.  His 
organ  of  Order  is  also  fully  developed,  and  where 
"Smithey"  is,  one  is  sure  to  find  neatness  and 
order  combined.  And  it  is  a  pleasure  to  testify 
to  the  purity  of  Mr.  Smith's  moral  character  as 
being  equally  unspotted.  He  was  a  pleasing 
actor,  especially  in  Fops  and  Exquisites.  He  is 
now  an  inmate  of  the  "  Forrest  Home." 

Another  of  the  notable  men  of  what  may  be 
termed  the  first  era  of  the  American  stage,  I  at 
this  time  became  acquainted  with — Mr.  Wm.  B. 
Wood.  He  was  almost  the  only  one  of  the  "old 
guard  "  left  to  remind  the  Philadelphia  theatre- 
goers of  the  past.  Though  not  a  very  old  man 
(he  was  but  sixty-four)  he  was  physically  some- 
what feeble,  and  had  practically  retired  from  the 
stage  some  seasons  before.  In  company  with  Mr. 
Warren,  he  had  for  many  years  been  the  mana- 
ger of  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  which  Phil- 
adelphians  always  called  "  Old  Drury,"  and  his 
first  appearance  as  an  actor  dated  as  far  back  as 
1798.  The  warmest  admirers  of  Mr.  Wood  nev- 
er claimed  that  he  was  a  genius,  but  he  had  ap- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  183 

plication  and  perseverance,  and  all  old  Philadel- 
phians  spoke  with  respect  of  Mr.  Wood.  He 
professed  light  comedy  when  in  his  prime,  and 
was  fond  of  the  society  of  the  green-room,  where 
he  could  talk  of  the  past,  tell  stories  of  the  past, 
and  recount  his  triumphs  in  the  past.  I  greatly 
enjoyed  "  Billy  Wood,"  as  he  was  always  called, 
though  I  think  he  was  a  little  inclined  to  tinder- 
rate  his  contemporaries,  and  overrate  Billy  Wood, 
and  he  had  a  habit  of  qualifying  all  he  said,  with 
a  "  but."  As,  "  Mrs.  Merry  was  a  very  fine  act- 
ress, but "  and  "  Conway  played  '  Jaffier  '  re- 
markably well,  but ."  He  took  his  farewell 

of  the  stage  while  I  was  in  Philadelphia,  and 
was  honored  by  the  patronage  of  the  best  citi- 
zens— vice-president  Dallas  among  them. 

Mr.  James  Wallack,  Jr.,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  in  Philadelphia  at  this 
time,  and  his  friendship  is  one  of  my  pleasant 
"  memories."  Mr.  Wallack  was  a  very  fine  act- 
or, so  well  known  to  a  great  portion  of  the  pub- 
lic of  to-day,  praise  on  my  part  would  be  pre- 
sumptuous. He  was  for  two  or  three  seasons  a 
stock-star  of  the  "  Walnut "  company,  and  his 
acting  of  "  Melantius,"  in  the  "Bridal,"  the 
"  King  of  the  Commons,"  and  like  characters, 
was  superb.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him 
after  a  lapse  of  years,  in  California.  His  wife, 
a  very  fine  actress,  was  the  little  "  Cora's  Child," 


184  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

who  "  blubbered   in  i  Pizarro's  '  face,"  in  Salem, 
so  many  years  before. 

While  a  member  of  the  "Walnut  Street  Com- 
pany," I  frequently  played  in  Baltimore,  it  being 
found  advantageous  to  intermit  the  season  at 
Philadelphia,  by  visiting  the  Maryland  metropo- 
lis with  an  attractive  star  or  an  attractive  play, 
and  these  visits  recall  my  remembrance  of  Mr. 
Blake  in  three  characters,  the  performance  of 
which  stamped  him  as  a  master  of  the  mimic  art 
-"Grandfather  Whitehead,"  "Jeoffrey  Dale," 
and  "Jesse  Rural." 

In  the  fall  of  1845,  a  "Patriotic  Drama"  was 
announced,  under  the  title  of  the  "  Battle  of 
Germantown,"  by  Walter  M.  I/eman.  This, 
my  first  attempt  at  dramatic  composition,  was 
prompted  by  the  persuasion  of  Mr.  Spear,  who 
had  read  a  iiouvelette  with  the  same  title,  by  a 
Mr.  Lippard,  and  wanted  to  play  the  Yankee 
who  figures  in  the  story.  The  piece  was  well 
received,  played  many  nights,  and  has  since 
been  repeated  in  New  York  and  other  cities.  No 
merit  is  claimed  for  it  other  than  that  of  being  a 
passable  medium  of  expression  for  the  exuber- 
ant patriotism  of  Americans  on  an  American 
holiday. 

At  the  disastrous  period  of  the  Revolution, 
made  memorable  by  the  sufferings  of  Valley 
Forge,  and  the  subsequent  conflicts  of  Brandy- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  185 

wine  and  Germantown,  great  service  was  ren- 
dered to  the  American  canse  by  a  band  of 
organized  volunteer  yeomanry  from  the  eastern 
counties  of  Pennsylvania.  This  partisan  band 
of  "  Mounted  Rifles,"  for  such  they  really  were, 
was  called  the  u  Black  Rangers."  The  following 
song  being  the  feature  of  the  piece,  I  will  insert 
it  as  my  only  "  memory "  of  the  forgotten 
"  Battle  of  Germantown." 


THE  RANGER'S  MIDNIGHT  SONG. 


Beneath  yon  moon,  at  night's  high  noon, 

Grasp  we  each  brother's  hand, 
And  stake  our  all  to  stand  or  fall 

By  our  dear  native  land. 
Our  arms  are  ready  for  the  strife — 

Our  powder,  it  is  dry. 
Our  flints  are  picked,  our  aim  is  true — 

To  the  white  of  the  foeman's  eye. 
Up,  Rangers,  up — mount,  Rangers,  mount ! 

Our  steeds,  our  steeds  are  here ; 
The  hour  has  come,  and  the  tap  o'  the  drum 

Proclaims  the  foeman  near. 

The  Ranger's  band  with  steady  hand 

Will  grasp  the  rifle  true ; 
There's  no  retreat  in  the  Ranger's  feet 

When  the  enemy's  in  view. 
Our  girls  have  filled  our  cartridges 

And  cast  our  leaden  balls — 
There's  kisses  for  him  who  returns  alive, 

And  tears  for  him  who  falls. 
Then  Rangers  draw  your  saddle. girths  ! 

Your  neighing  chargers  rear 
And  champ  the  bit  at  the  tap  of  the  drum 

That  speaks  the  foeman  near. 


1 86  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 


Our  cause  is  just — in  God  's  our  trust ; 

The  hireling  slaves  we'll  foil ; 
Our  pine-tree  banner  ne'er  shall  trail 

In  the  dust  of  freedom's  soil. 
Our  trumpet's  throat  brays  out  the  note 

Of  death  to  Albion's  sons, 
While  on  we  ride,  through  the  battle's  tide, 

'Mid  the  flashing  of  the  guns  ; 
Each  Ranger's  foot  in  the  stirrup  put, 

With  your  sabres  gleaming  clear 
In  the  light  of  the  moon — for  the  tap  o'  the  drum 

Proclaims  the  foeman  near. 


In  December  of  the  same  year,  a  one-act  sketch, 
with  the  title  of  "  Freedom's  Last  Martyr,"  was 
thrown  together  in  haste,  and  announced  for 
representation  as  from  the  pen  of  the  author  of 
"The  Battle  of  Germantown."  This  little 
drama,  based  on  the  historic  incident  of  the 
death  of  Colonel  Ledyard,  at  the  surrender  of 
Fort  Griswold  during  the  Revolutionary  War, 
was  well  received  and  played  many  times;  but 
has  faded  into  oblivion. 

In  May  of  the  next  year,  on  reception  of  the 
startling  intelligence  of  the  outbreak  of  hostili- 
ties on  the  Mexican  border,  at  the  request  of  Mr. 
Blake,  I  wrote  the  "  Campaign  of  the  Rio  Grande." 
This  piece  was  in  two  acts,  and  owed  its  success 
rather  to  the  patriotic  sentiment  of  the  public 
than  to  any  real  dramatic  merit  in  its  composi- 
tion; it  was  played  many  nights,  and  occasionally 
revived  during  the  season ;  but,  like  its  prede- 
cessors, it  "died  and  made  no  sign." 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  187 

My  fourth  and  more  pretentious  effort  as  a 
playwright  was  produced  in  January  of  the  fol- 
lowing year,  under  the  title  of  the  "  Prairie 
Bird."  It  was  a  dramatization  of  the  Hon. 
George  Augustus  Murray's  popular  novel  with 
the  same  title,  and  met  with  pronounced  success. 
It  ran  a  week,  and  was  occasionally  represented 
during  the  season's  continuance.  It  had  the 
advantage  of  an  admirable  cast.  Mr.  James 
Wallack,  Jr.,  Mr.  Wheatley,  Mr.  Chapman  and 
Mrs.  James  Wallack  being  in  the  distribution. 
The  " Prairie  Bird"  has  been  successfully  played 
in  Boston  and  also  in  California ;  but  in  all  proba- 
bility its  career  is  run,  and  it  will  be  heard  of 
no  more.  With  that  conviction,  its  author  may 
be  pardoned  for  recording  it  among  his  "Mem- 
ries." 

There  was  a  bright-eyed,  brown  cheeked  little 
girl,  running  about  my  house  in  those  early 
Philadelphia  days,  who  called  me  "  Father."  In 
the  month  of  August,  of  the  following  year,  she 
came  trotting  home  from  school  one  day  and 
told  how  a  play-mate  of  hers  was  "  working  a 
sampler,"  and  how  she  was  working  upon  it  such 
pretty  lines  that  some  one  had  written  on  her 
birthday  ;  and  she  did  wish  that  somebody  would 
write  some  lines  for  her  birthday  when  she  was 
ten  years  old.  In  the  parlor  of  that  little  girl, 
now  a  middle-aged  woman,  hangs  a  "sampler" 


1 88  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

faded  with  years,  but  carefully  preserved,  and  in 
its  web  embroidered — 


FROM   MY   FATHER 

ON 
MY   TENTH   BIRTHDAY. 

First  fair  boon  from  Heaven  sent 
Laughter — loving  Ellie — lent 
To  thy  parents  from  above ; 
Earliest  pledge  of  fondest  love, 
Thoughtless,  happy,  hasty  child. 
Frank,  impetuous,  wayward,  wild, 
Rude  in  health;  in  'haviour  bold  ; 
Ellie — thou  art  ten  years  old  ! 

As  thou  standest  by  my  side 
In  thy  girlhood's  joyous  pride, 
Hopes  and  fears  alternate  sway — 
Ellie,  on  thy  natal  day. 
What  is  past  we  know  full  well, 
What 's  to  come — ah  !  who  can  tell  ? 
May  thy  character  unfold 
Brighter  as  thou  growest  old. 

When  a  babe  thy  mother's  breast 
Lulled  thy  infant  form  to  rest ; 
Every  grief  and  every  care 
Found  a  sympathizer  there  ; 
Till  her  sun  of  life  shall  set 
Ellie — thee  she'll  ne'er  forget ; 
Ellie,  let  it  not  be  told 
She's  forgotten  when  she's  old. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  189 


Ellie — guard  thy  every  step 

In  the  path  of  virtue  keep  ; 

From  her  ways  if  thou  shouldst  part, 

Ah  !   'twould  break  thy  father's  heart 

Rather  in  an  early  tomb 

Would  he  lay  thee  in  thy  bloom  ; 

Virtue's  better  far  than  gold, 

Ellie — in  the  young  or  old. 

As  thy  barque  puts  gaily  forth 
Freighted  with  the  joys  of  youth 
To  avoid  the  rocks  of  care — 
L,ook  to  God,  the  guiding  star. 
If  truth  dwell  while  thou  art  young, 
In  thy  heart  and  on  thy  tongue, 
Ellie,  then  shalt  thou  behold 
Peace  and  happiness  when  old. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  ' '  Volunteer's  Return  ' '-  —  The  ' '  Millionaire  " —  Alexina 
Fisher — Mr.  E.  A.  Marshal — Mrs.  Bowers — Kean — An 
"Actor's  Life  " — Poem  —  The  Pennsylvania  Canal — The 
Ohio — St.  Louis  Theatre — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Farren — Mr. 
Stark — The  Heron  Family — Ludlow  and  Smith— M' lie 
Blangy— St.  Charles  Theatre,  N.  O.— The  "Patriarchal 
Institution" — Mr.  Couldock — The  Great  Lakes  —  Miss 
Julia  Dean— Charles  Burke— The  "  Spirits  "—The  Bate- 
man  Children — Mr.  Bass — Return  to  Boston — Miss  Fanny 
Wallack— Barney  Williams— Celeste — Mr.  Gustavus  G. 
Brooke — George  Vandenhoff — Mrs.  Sinclair — Burning  of 
the  National  Theatre — Mr.  J.  P.  Addams — Lucille  and 
Helen  Western — The  New  National  Theatre — Mr.  Douglas 
Stewart — Mrs.  Archbold — Mrs.  George  Barrett — Wallack 
— Miss  Matilda  Heron — Anna  Cora  Mowatt — Mrs.  Melin- 
da  Jones — Mr.  Warwick. 

IN  July,  1848,  I  penned  a  dramatic  sketch,  in 
one  act,  which  was  played  under  the  title  of 
the  "  Volunteer's  Departure  and  Return."  Illus- 
trated by  a  series  of  tableaux,  portraying  the 
varied  scenes  in  the  life  of  a  volunteer,  commen- 
cing with  his  departure  from  the  happy  fireside, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  191 

continued  through  the  perils  of  the  camp  and  the 
battle-field,  and  ending  with  his  return  to 

' '  Home,  Sweet  Home. ' ' 

The  return  of  the  Pennsylvania  Regiment  of 
Volunteer  Troops  from  the  Mexican  war  sug- 
gested this  trifle.  It  answered  the  purpose  for 
which  it  was  written. 

In  August  the  regular  season  opened,  when 
the  comedy  of  the  "  Millionaire  "  was  presented 
as  the  initial  performance.  I  had  commenced 
writing  this  play  during  the  closing  days  of  the 
previous  season,  but  four  of  its  five  acts  were 
completed  during  the  interregnum  of  some  five 
weeks  that  preceded  its  production.  It  was 
favorably  received  by  the  public,  and,  on  the 
whole,  generously  spoken  of  by  the  press  ;  in- 
deed, I  am  convinced  that  it  received  all  the 
praise  it  merited,  and  perhaps  more.  That  it 
was  faulty  in  construction,  I  know ;  in  my  en- 
deavor to  observe  the  unities  I  sacrificed  effect, 
and  committed  the  common  error  of  the  inexpe- 
rienced dramatist  by  over-burdening  my  play  with 
too  much  dialogue  and  too  little  action.  It  ran 
one  week  to  remunerative  houses,  and  the  au- 
thor's friends  were  present  in  force  on  his  benefit 
night.  The  Comedy  had  the  advantage  of  an 
admirable  cast,  including  Messrs.  Richings, 
Wheatley  and  Chapman,  and  Mesdames  Alexina 


192  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Fisher,  Blake,  Thayer  and  Mossop,  and  was 
introduced  by  a  happy  prologue  written  by  my 
friend,  James  S.  Wallace,  Esq.,  and  spoken  by 
Miss  Alexina  Fisher. 

Among  all  my  "  memories,"  what  pleasanter 
one  can  I  recall  than  that  of  Alexina  Fisher  ? 
Playing  as  I  did  with  her  for  several  consecutive 
seasons,  and  being  on  terms  of  intimate  friend- 
ship, I  had  ample  means  of  knowing  her  as  she 
really  was — a  genial,  pleasant,  kind-hearted  little 
woman  ;  a  most  versatile,  accomplished  and  fas- 
cinating actress. 

She  was  always  so  prime  a  favorite  with  the 
Philadelphia  public  that  the  play  hardly  seemed 
a  play  unless  Alexina  Fisher  was  in  it ;  and  she 
held  her  throne  against  all  rivals  to  the  last  of 
her  career. 

She  was  the  heroine  of  all  my  crude  dramas, 
and  was  always  as  true  as  steel  to  that  profes- 
sional esprit  de  corps,  which  is  never  more  grate- 
ful to  an  actor  than  when  he  turns  author.  In 
after  years,  as  Mrs.  Alexina  Fisher-Baker,  she 
met  with  brilliant  success  in  California.  I  have 
not  seen  her  for  many  a  year ;  like  myself,  she 
is  no  longer  young.  Should  this  book  ever  meet 
her  eye,  she  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that 
I  greet  her  across  a  continent,  "  with  pleasure — 
with  pleasure." 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  193 

On  the  evening  of  a  complimentary  benefit  to 
Mr.  E.  A.  Marshal,  the  manager,  I  recited  an 
occassional  address,  in  which  I  had  introduced 
by  name,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  com- 
pany as  willing  contributors  to  the  festival  in 
honor  of  their  liberal  employer.  I  append  a  few 
lines  : — 


' '  But  soft !  methinks  I  hear  the  public  say, 
'  The  ladies,  Mr.  Leman,  where  are  they? 
You  have  not  named  them  yet ;  oh,  fie,  for  shame  ! 
What,  leave  the  ladies  last — you  are  to  blame  ! ' 
Your  pardon,  gentle  sirs,  I  mean  no  ill — 
Pray  you  observe,  I'm  following  the  '  bill. ' 
The  ladies,  then— 
#:#>#'*'### 

"  And  Alexina  Fisher,  just  the  thing 
As  you  all  know — she's  laughing  at  the  wing  ; 
lyittle,  but  big  enough  to  lead  the  van, 
See  her  in  boy's  clothes — '  every  inch  a  man  !  ' 
And  she  whose  path  may  Hymen  strew  with  flowers, 
The  'Child  of  Nature '—pretty  Mrs.  Bowers." 

Mrs.  Bowers  was  then  a  member  of  the  Com- 
pany, and  had  a  short  time  previous  made  her 
first  appearance  as  "  Amanthis,"  in  the  "  Child 
of  Nature,"  when  she  was  Miss  Crocker.  Mrs. 
Bowers'  brilliant  and  successful  career  as  a  tra- 
gedienne is  well  known.  She  is  another  happy 
memory  of  the  by-gone  days,  and  with  pride  I 
include  her  in  my  list  of  old  and  dear  friends. 


194  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

During  my  residence  in  Philadelphia  I  formed 
many  acquaintanceships  which  time  and  distance 
have  severed,  and  knew  many  friendships  that 
death  has  cut  short.  Among  the  latter  I  may 
name  the  late  John  W.  Forney,  Esq.,  Pierce  But- 
ler, Esq.,  and  Mr.  William  Savory  Torr.  From 
the  lips  of  the  latter  gentleman  I  heard  an  anec- 
dote respecting  Edmund  Kean,  which  he  vouched 
for  as  being,  from  his  own  personal  knowledge, 
absolutely  true.  I  think  it  worthy  of  a  place  in 
my  record. 

At  an  evening  party  given  by  Nicholas  Biddle, 
Esq.,  to  which  Mr.  Kean  was  an  invited  guest,  a 
young  lady  playfully  asked  of  Mr.  Kean  during 
the  evening,  what  an  actor's  life  was  like,  to 
which  he  replied,  that  if  she  would  order  the  ser- 
vant to  bring  him  a  sheet  of  paper,  he  would 
give  her  an  answer  before  the  company  broke 
up,  and  when  she  called  for  her  carriage,  he  put 
into  her  hand  a  folded  paper  containing  his 
answer  to  her  question,  which  read  thus — 

"  An  actor's  life — a  sea  of  ceaseless  troubles  ; 
An  actor's  fame — but  fleeting,  child-blown  bubbles, 
Wafted  by  folly's  breath  into  the  air, 
Dispell'd  by  blasts  of  envy  or  despair  ; 
Floats  on  the  breeze  like  Nautili  o'er  the  main, 
Bursts  and  is  gone  ! — '  sans  everything '  again." 

I  was  invited  on  one  occasion  to  fill  the  role  of 
poet,  at  a  celebration  of  the  National  Anniver- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  195 

sary.  Perhaps  I  may  be  pardoned  for  inserting 
the  opening  and  closing  lines  of  my  address  in 
these  "Memories."  The  address  was  re-written 
at  a  later  period,  with  additions,  for  an  anniver- 
sary of  the  San  Francisco  "  Mechanic's  Associa- 
tion," and  is,  I  believe,  in  print : — 

4 '  Home  of  the  brave  and  free,  land  of  my  birth, 
Thou  fairest,  freest,  happiest  clime  of  earth, 
Thou  glorious  refuge  of  humanity, 
Spread  from  th '  Atlantic  to  the  Western  Sea, 
From  far  Alaska's  cold,  congealed  snow 
To  the  volcanic  hills  of  Mexico — 

Where  mountains  rise,  whose  towering  peaks  on  high 
Piercing  afar  the  illimitable  sky, 
Receive  and  flash  the  day-god's  earliest  glance, 
In  golden  radiance  o'er  the  vast  expanse 
That  lies  around  ;  where  mighty  inland  seas 
Mount  with  the  storm  and  ruffle  to  the  breeze; 
Where  the  huge  bison  roams  the  prairie  plain, 
And  the  swift  steed,  with  wildly  flowing  mane, 
And  eye  dilated,  keenly  snuffs  afar 
The  hunter's  lasso  on  the  morning  air; 
Where  rippling  brooks  meander  on  through  vales 
That  breathe  the  wild  romance  of  border  tales, 
And  zephyrs  murmur  amid  verdant  bowers 
Rich  with  the  fragrance  of  perennial  flowers; 
Where  cavern-cradled  tempests  madly  sweep 
In  gusty  currents  from  the  mountain  steep; 
Where  through  the  fruitful  plain  majestic  on 
Rolls  the  swift  stream,  and  dashes  madly  down 
The  roaring  cataract,  'mid  mists  that  rise 
And  paint  their  rainbows  on  the  o'er- arching  skies; 
Where  Nature,  on  her  broadest,  boldest  plan, 
Proclaims  aloud  the  nothingness  of  man; 


196  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Where  God  hath  blent  the  beautiful  and  grand 
Be  thou  my  theme  !     My  own,  my  native  land  ! 
#  #•##**# 

Home  of  the  brave  and  free  !  dear  native  land  ! 

With  thee  my  theme  began,  and  so  shall  end. 

If  round  thy  onward  path  the  storm  should  lower, 

Impell'd  by  traitrous  or  despotic  power, 

Should  knaves  and  slaves  and  demagogues  combine. 

Fair  Freedom's  temple  walls  to  undermine, 

Thy  sturdy  yeomen,  undismayed  and  bold, 

Unswayed  by  station,  unseduced  by  gold, 

Will  at  thy  summons  to  the  conflict  rush, 

The  foreign  or  intestine  foe  to  crush  ; 

Thy  banner  to  uphold,  whate'er  befalls. 

True  to  the  Union,  when  the  Union  calls. 

In  vain  the  traitor's  wiles,  the  coward's  fear 

Essay  to  check  thee  in  thy  bright  career. 

Thou  ocean-bound  republic  !  for  on  high 

Where  dwell  the  stars  is  writ  thy  destiny ; 

And  there  those  shining  orbs  have  pencilled  forth 

Thy  mission — to  regenerate  the  Earth, 

And  bid  the  realm  of  liberty  expand 

While  floats  thy  starry  flag,  my  own,  my  Native  Land. 

I  severed  my  connection  with  the  Walnut 
Street  Theatre,  at  the  close  of  the  season  of 
1849,  having  received  a  satisfactory  offer  from 
Messrs.  Ludlow  and  Smith  for  St.  Louis  and 
New  Orleans.  I  parted  from  Mr.  Marshall  with 
regret,  for  I  had  found  him  a  courteous  gentle- 
man, just  in  his  dealings  and  considerate  for  the 
comfort  of  those  in  his  employ.  I  never  saw 
Mr.  Marshall  again,  but  am  sorry  to  know  that 
ill-fortune  darkened  his  latter  years.  I  do  not 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  197 

know,  but  believe  that  he  has  passed  away  to  the 
unknown  shore. 

The  prevalence  of  cholera  in  the  West  delayed 
my  departure  for  some  time,  and  I  improved  the 
opportunity  to  journey  as  far  as  Pittsburgh,  by  a 
mode  of  locomotion  which  steam  has  made  a 
thing  of  the  past.  That  summer  trip  in  a  canal 
packet  across  the  great  State  of  Pennsylvania  to 
the  Ohio  River,  is  one  of  my  pleasant  "  mem- 
ories." The  novelty  of  the  conveyance,  its 
adaptedness  to  the  wants  of  the  voyager,  the 
wonderful  way  in  which  room  was  made  for 
everything,  in  a  small  ark  in  which  at  first  sight 
there  appeared  to  be  no  room  for  anything ;  the 
good  quality  and  abundance  of  the  food ;  the 
cleanliness  of  the  cookery  and  bedding,  and  the 
discipline  and  order  maintained  on  those  little 
inland  packets,  which  thridded  their  way  through 
scenes  of  rural  loveliness,  agricultural  abundance 
and  natural  beauty  of  valley,  plain  and  moun- 
tain, can  never  be  forgotten. 

And  the  trip  down  the  Ohio  was  equally  pleas- 
ant ;  the  river  was  at  its  very  lowest  stage — 
emphatically  what  John  Randolph  called  it, 
"  a  dried  up,  or  nearly  dried  up  ditch;"  and  I 
was  told  on  reaching  Pittsburgh  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  get  down  the  river ;  but  among 
the  many  tied-up  steamboats  there  was  one  little 
stern-wheeler  that  was  not  tied-up,  called  the 


198  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

"Exchange,"  and  her  master,  an  energetic  young 
fellow,  assured  myself  and  a  few  more  who  were 
anxious  to  get  on,  that  he  would  take  us  through 
to  St.  Louis  without  delay,  for  the  "  Exchange" 
could  run  and  make  good  time  through  "  damp 
grass."  And  he  kept  his  word.  I  don't  think 
his  craft  drew  more  than  seven  inches  of  water, 
and  the  bars  and  shoals  which  had  stranded 
larger  boats  were  sparred  over  by  our  little  craft 
with  small  loss  of  time.  "La  Belle  Riviere" 
grew  deeper  in  volume  as  we  advanced.  At 
Cincinnati  we  took  the  "  Ben.  West,"  a  larger 
boat,  soon  reached  Cairo,  and  thence  made  a 
quick  run  up  the  "  Father  of  Waters"  to  St. 
Louis. 

Messrs.  Ludlow  and  Smith,  the  well-known 
western  managers,  commenced  their  season  in 
St.  Louis  on  the  i5th  of  August,  and  I  opened 
as  "  Sergeant  Austerlitz."  Mrs.  Farren  com- 
menced a  starring  engagement  on  the  i8th  as 
"  Lticretia  Borgia,"  and  I  was  the  "Genarro." 

Mrs.  Farren  was  at  that  period  a  great  favorite 
with  western  audiences.  She  played  the  round 
of  tragedy  heroines  and  many  other  parts  with 
judgment  and  power.  Mr.  George  Farren  was 
an  admirable  character  actor;  his  performance  of 
" Sergeant  Supplice"  in  the  "Child  of  the  Regi- 
ment," and  "Captain  Cuttle"  in  "  Dombey  and 
Son,"  were  fine  examples  of  his  ability  and  train- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  199 

ing.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Farren  played  until  the  end 
of  the  month,  acting  for  their  benefit  "  Much 
Ado  About  Nothing,"  in  which  Mrs.  Farren 
was  the  "Beatrice,"  Mr.  F.  the  "  Dogberry,"  and 
myself  the  "  Benedick." 

I  knew  in  St.  Louis  Mr.  Charles  Dibdin  Pitt, 
who  spent  a  short  time  in  America,  and  was 
esteemed  a  clever  tragedian.  Mr.  James  Stark 
also  played  an  engagement ;  I  knew  this  gentle- 
man in  my  early  theatrical  days ;  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  speak  of  him  again.  The  "  Heron 
Family"  also  appeared;  I  think  that  the  party 
consisted  of  three  or  four  young  ladies ;  "  little 
Agnes"  was  the  "  precocity"  of  the  organization. 
They  faded  out  of  sight  many  a  year  ago. 

During  the  season  there  was  a  grand  revival  of 
the  spectacle  of  the  "  Forty  Thieves."  This  old- 
time  honored  melo-drama  was  always  a  mana- 
gerial weakness,  so  to  speak,  of  Sol.  Smith.  He 
was  very  fond  of  playing  "  Ali  Baba  "  or  "  Mus- 
tapha,"  and  if  he  ever  saw  a  chance  to  have  a 
"  shy  "  at  the  "  Forty  Thieves,"  he  never  missed 
it.  New  scenery  on  a  grand  scale  was  painted 
for  the  piece,  and  the  cave  of  "  Orcobrand,"  the 
evil  spirit,  in  addition  to  the  serpents  and  dragons 
and  birds  of  ill-omen,  with  which  scenic  artists 
usually  adorn  it,  was  embellished  with  two  gi- 
gantic demons  with  bulging  eyes,  in  a  sitting 
posture  on  either  side  of  a  murky  altar.  The 


2oo  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

scene  on  being  discovered  was  received  with  a 
murmur  of  applause  which  swelled  into  a  roar, 
when  a  long-limbed,  long-haired,  steamboat  man 
in  butternut  clothes,  rose  in  the  pit,  and  address- 
ing some  one  whom  he  knew  in  the  upper  tier, 
cried  out,  "  By  G — ,  Jim,  there's  Ludlow  and  Smith 
counting  tickets  in  the  box-office." 

The  short  season  in  St.  Louis  closed  with  the 
engagement  of  Mile.  Herminie  Blangy.  This 
beautiful  danseuse,  was  a  competitor  with  the  no 
less  beautiful  Augusta,  for  the  honor  of  being 
enrolled  as  the  successor  of  Fanny  Ellsler. 

The  St.  Charles  Theatre  in  New  Orleans, 
opened  on  the  evening  of  Saturday,  November 
loth.  My  trip  down  the  Mississippi  on  a  L/evia- 
than  steamer,  with  all  the  adjuncts  that  con- 
tribute to  the  traveler's  comfort,  was  greatly  en- 
joyed— with  but  one  drawback  ;  sitting  upon  the 
guards  one  day,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  an 
intelligent  looking,  light  mulatto,  who,  to  my 
surprise,  had  his  two  wrists  linked  together  with 
iron  fetters  about  a  foot  long.  I  was  not  at  all 
conversant  with  the  methods  of  the  "patriarchal 
institution,"  and  was  somewhat  shocked,  when  in 
answer  to  my  inquiry  of  "  why  he  wore  them  ?  " 
hetoldmethathis<?z£/;^rhadput  them  on,  not  for 
any  offence,  but  simply  as  a  guard  against  any  at- 
tempt at  running  away,  when  the  boat  stopped  to 
"  wood  up  "  or  for  any  other  purpose.  "  Who  is 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  201 

your  owner?"  I  asked.  " Bishop  Hawks,"  he  an- 
swered; "but  he  need  not  have  done  it,  I  don't 
intend  to  run  away."  Here  was  food  for  reflec- 
tion. A  young  man,  an  intelligent  human  being 
owned  by  a  servant  of  God,  and  chained  by  a 
servant  of  God.  I  reflected.  On  the  next  day,  to 
my  surprise,  I  was  served  at  table  by  the  same 
young  man ;  he  was  an  apt  and  capable  waiter; 
and  the  captain  of  the  boat  had  taken  off  his 
manacles,  upon  his  word  not  to  attempt  to  leave. 
While  I  am  on  this  topic,  I  will  mention  one 
other  incident  that  caused  me  to  reflect  on  the 
"  patriarchal  institution."  While  in  New  Orleans, 
I  went  one  afternoon  to  some  distance  below  the 
city  to  locate,  if  possible,  the  range  or  line  of 
defenses,  which  were  so  triumphantly  held  by 
Andrew  Jackson  on  the  historic  8th  of  January. 
I  did  not  have  much  success,  but  was  pointed  to 
a  cluster  of  trees  in  the  near  distance,  and  in- 
formed that  underneath  their  branches  General 
Packenham  breathed  his  last.  While  I  stood 
thinking  of  old  Hickory  and  the  cotton  bales,  and 
of  the  awful  slaughter  of  that  day,  in  the  name 
of,  and  for  the  sake  of  liberty,  I  saw  working  in 
the  adjacent  field  a  negro  apparently  more 
than  fifty  years  old,  an  iron  belt  around  his 
waist,  rings  round  his  ankles,  and  fetters  of  very 
considerable  size  and  weight  connecting  the  two. 
I  was  about  to  speak  to  him,  but  a  horseman  who 


2O2  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

had  the  appearance  of  an  overseer,  walked  his 
horse  slowly  by  on  the  inside  of  the  enclosure, 
and  looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  "  what  are  you 
going  to  say  to  that  slave  ? "  air ;  and  I  was 
silent.  Here  wras  more  food  for  reflection.  I  had 
come  out  to  view  the  battle-ground  of  freedom, 
and  I  found  a  wretched  old  slave  loaded  with 
irons  turning  up  its  soil.  I  reflected. 

I  addition  to  the  stars  whose  names  I  have 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  St.  Louis 
season,  Mr.  Hudson,  an  Irish  actor  appeared ; 
Mr.  Murdoch  played  a  fine  engagement,  as  did 
also  Miss  Cushman,  supported  by  Mr.  W.  H. 
Couldock.  This  gentleman  I  had  known  in 
Philadelphia  ;  he  was  an  admirable  actor  then, 
and  in  his  old  age  now,  is  acknowledged  as  one 
of  the  truest  artists  on  the  American  stage.  He 
has  made  several  visits  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  and 
is  one  among  others,  to  whom  the  writer  is  in- 
debted for  acts  of  generous  courtesy.  I  had  one, 
and  the  only  opportunity,  during  that  season  to 
see  Mr.  N.  M.  Ludlow  act.  He  had  been  associ- 
ated for  many  years  in  management  with  Sol. 
Smith ;  but  had  practically  retired  as  an  actor. 
Mr.  Ludlow  appeared  as  u  Mr.  Ferment "  in 
Morton's  comedy  of  "  The  School  of  Reform." 
He  had  the  reputation  of  being  an  excellent  light 
comedian  in  his  prime.  Mr.  Ludlow  died  within 
the  last  year,  over,  ninety  years  of  age. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  203 

The  season  at  the  "  St.  Charles"  closed  on  the 
29th  of  March  with  Shakespeare's  "Julius  Caesar,'* 
for  the  writer's  benefit — u  Cassius,"  Mr.  George 
Jamison;  "Brutus,"  Mr.  James  Stark;  "Marc 
Antony,"  Mr.  Walter  M.  Leman  ;  "  Portia,"  Mrs. 
J.  M.  Field.  I  returned  North,  and  in  April  re- 
appeared at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  for  a 
short  season  with  Miss  Jean  Davenport,  when 
was  revived  Knowles'  play  of  the  "  Maid  of  Ma- 
riendorpt." 

In  pursuance  of  an  engagement  to  re-join 
Messrs.  Ludlow  and  Smith  in  August,  I  left  for 
St.  Louis  in  time  to  make  the  journey  by  the 
northern  route,  and  at  Buffalo  embarked  on  a 
steamer  which  almost  rivalled  in  appointments 
and  size  the  ocean  leviathans  of  to-day,  and  sailed 
by  the  circuitous  way  of  Lakes  Erie,  St.  Clair, 
Huron  and  Michigan,  to  the  city  of  Chicago — 
then  but  the  embryo  of  the  mighty  metropolis  of 
to-day — and  thence  by  canal  and  the  Illinois 
River  to  St.  Louis. 

That  summer  trip  over  the  "  mighty  inland 
seas,"  whose  shore-line  will  aggregate  not  less 
than  twenty-five  hundred  miles,  is  a  memory  of 
the  past  which  time  has  not  weakened.  The 
weather  was  delightful,  and  each  long  day  was 
too  short  for  the  hours  of  enjoyment.  At  a  cer- 
tain point  off  Manitou  Island,  in  Lake  Michigan, 
the  water  was  of  wondrous  lucidity,  and  the 


204  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

pebbly  bottom  was  clearly  visible  at  a  depth  of 
sixty  feet.  The  company  on  board  the  steamer 
was  companionable  and  pleasant,  and  among  the 
creature  comforts  of  the  table  were  lake  trout  of 
marvellous  size  and  delicious  flavor. 

As  in  the  previous  year,  Mrs.  Farren  com- 
menced the  season  in  St.  Louis  ;  and  in  the  first 
fourteen  nights  I  played  successively  "  Master 
Walter,"  "  Beverley,"  "  Huon,"  "  Colonna," 
"Benedick,"  "Julian  St.  Pierre,"  "  Genarro," 
"Claude  Melnotte,"  " Duke  Aranza,"  the  "Stran- 
ger," " Black Norris"  in  Knowles'  "Wrecker's 
Daughter,"  "  Giraldi  Fazio,"  and  "  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood"  in  the  "Bride  of  Lammermoor."  There 
would  have  been  nothing  extraordinary  in  this, 
but  that  four  of  the  longest  in  the  list  I  had 
never  played  before,  and  what  with  study — for 
I  sat  up  nearly  all  night  for  most  of  the  time — 
and  the  necessary  rehearsals,  I  cannot  recall  a 
more  exacting  two  weeks'  wear  of  mind  and 
body  during  my  professional  life. 

In  September,  Miss  Julia  Dean  produced  Miss 
Fanny  Kemble's  adaptation  from  the  French, 
entitled  the  "  Duke's  Wager."  This  piece  drew 
forth  a  great  deal  of  criticism  at  the  time,  and 
was  somewhat  sharply  noticed  by  the  press  of 
New  Orleans,  on  its  production  in  that  city,  as 
being  too  broadly  "French"  for  the  American 
Stage.  That  was  nearly  forty  years  ago.  The 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  205 

American  Stage,  within  the  few  past  years,  has 
got  bravely  over  its  anti-French  squeamishness 
— perhaps  it  were  better  if  it  had  not.  Miss 
Dean's  acting  as  a  Gabrielle  de  Belle-Isle  "  was 
remarkably  fine.  I  was  the  "  Dnke  de  Riche- 
lieu" of  the  play. 

What  son  of  Momus  is  this,  whose  memory 
comes  up  to  me  from  the  shadows  of  the  past, 
whose  outre  figure  and  remarkable  features  were 
but  secondary  factors  in  the  wealth  of  mirth  and 
merriment  that  lived  in  his  spirit  and  found 
utterance  in  his  speech  ?  Charles  Burke.  Who 
that  ever  saw  him  can  forget  him  ?  Who  that 
saw  him  can  remember  his  superior  as  a  low 
comedian  ?  Mr.  Burke  played  at  that  time  "Dr. 
Ollapod,"  "Billy  Lackaday,"  and  some  other 
characters,  with  an  excellence  all  his  own.  After 
a  long  acquaintance  with  Charles  Burke,  I  can 
say — as  all  who  knew  him  in  life  will  say — that 
he  was  the  soul  of  kindness,  charity  and  honor. 
He  was  in  private  life  one  of  the  most  charming 
companions  imaginable. 

Mr.  Burke  was,  I  believe,  twice  married ;  his 
second  wife  was  a  Boston  lady  whom  I  knew  in 
my  early  theatrical  life.  The  first  Mrs.  Burke 
had  the  character  of  being  a  lady  of  a  very  lively 
temperament,  so  much  so,  that  domestic  peace 
was  sometimes  in  danger  of  eclipse,  at  least  so 
said  report ;  that  this  was  true  I  am  inclined  to 


2o6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

believe  from  a  circumstance  that  occurred  a  year 
later  in  Baltimore.  I  was  present  with  Mr. 
Burke  at  a  large  social  party  for  spiritual  mani- 
festations; some  of  the  "developments"  were 
considered  wonderful ;  the  answers  of  the  "  spirits" 
were  very  prompt,  and  every  one  had  some 
inquiry  to  make  of  some  departed  friend.  We 
were  all  sitting  round  a  large  table,  upon  which 
cake  and  wine  had  been  served,  while  the  seance 
was  suspended  ;  when  some  one  remarked,  "  Mr. 
Burke  you  havn't  called  up  any  departed  friend 
to-night ;  don't  you  want  to  see  any  one  ?  "  and 
Mr.  Savage,  one  of  the  company,  who  was  at- 
tached to  Laura  Keene's  Theatre,  and  had  been 
the  powerful  "  medium  "  of  the  evening,  added — 
"  No,  I've  noticed  that  you  hav'iit  called  on  any 
spirit,  Mr.  Burke ;  don't  you  want  to  see  Mrs. 
Burke  ?  let  me  call  Mrs.  Burke."  Charley,  with 
that  remarkable  expression  which  defies  descrip- 
tion, instantly  and  earnestly  answered — "  No, 
don't!  don't!  I  don't  want  to  see  her."  But 
Savage  was  determined,  and  putting  his  hands 
on  the  table,  asked — "  Is  the  spirit  of  Mrs.  Burke 
here  ?  "  when  a  violent  convulsion  of  the  table, 
which  made  the  tumblers  and  wine  glasses  jump 
up  two  or  three  inches,  and  set  everything 
rattling  and  breaking,  astonished  every  one  but 
Burke  ;  who  instantly  exclaimed — "  That's  her, 
that's  her,  I  know  her ;  that's  her,  let  her  go.  I 
don't  want  to  ask  her  any  questions,  let  her  go." 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor,  207 

Another  u  memory "  of  that  season  is  the 
"  Bateman  Children  ;  "  they  were  two — Ellen 
and  Kate ;  the  youngest  was  certainly  one  of  the 
most  comical  little  midgets  I  ever  saw,  and  was 
as  clever  as  she  was  small.  Both  of  these  little 
girls  grew  np  into  fine  actresses,  and  one  made  a 
noise  in  the  dramatic  world.  Their  father  be- 
came famous  as  a  manager  in  England  and 
America. 

It  is  pleasant  to  remember  that  the  writer's 
benefit  at  the  close  of  the  St.  Louis  season  was  a 
pronounced  and  complimentary  success.  The 
"  Millionaire "  was  the  play.  The  company 
again  went  down  the  great  river,  and  on  the  i3th 
of  November,  the  St.  Charles  Theatre  opened 
with  the  "  Millionaire,"  which  was  played  three 
nights.  The  u  Dimple  "  of  the  cast  on  this  occa- 
sion was  Mrs.  Chapman,  late  Miss  Julia  Drake, 
a  cousin  of  Julia  Dean,  a  most  piquante  and 
merry  little  actress,  who  maintained  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  u  Drake  "  family  for  dramatic  ability. 
This  season  was  notable*  for  a  brilliant  engage- 
ment of  Miss  Charlotte  Cushman,  whose  acting 
of  "  Lady  Macbeth  "  and  "  Meg  Merriles,"  im- 
pressed the  public  most  profoundly.  Miss  Jenny 
Lind  sang  under  the  management  of  the  famous 
Barnum,  and  packed  the  theatre  to  the  roof,  and 
Burke  and  the  Seguins  added  to  the  attractions  of 
a  prosperous  season,  which  came  to  a  termination 


2o8  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

early  in  April.  I  took  the  steamer  for  Louisville, 
and  saw  the  Queen  City  of  the  South  for  the  last 
time.  At  Louisville  I  first  met  with  Mrs.  Cole- 
man  Pope ;  this  lady  had  an  established  reputa- 
tion at  that  time  as  a  capable  artiste,  but  was 
hardly  recognized  as  a  tragedienne.  The  feature 
of  that  short  season  in  Louisville  was  the  pro- 
duction of  the  tragedy  of  "  Nina  Sforza  " — 
"Nina  Sforza,"  Mrs.  Coleman  Pope;  "Spinola," 
Walter  M.  Leman ;  "  Grimaldo,"  Charles  Hill. 
This  gentleman  was  the  father  of  Mr.  Barton 
Hill,  with  whom  I  was  afterwards  associated  in 
the  California  Theatre  in  San  Francisco.  Mr. 
Hill  was  a  very  eccentric  gentleman,  full  of  the 
old  ways  and  traditions  of  the  stage ;  he  has  been 
long  dead. 

From  Louisville,  with  Mrs.  Pope,  I  went  to  St. 
Louis,  and  there  met  H.  A.  Perry,  whom  I  had 
first  known  as  a  beginner  in  the  Walnut  St.  I 
knew  him  subsequently  on  the  Pacific  Coast. 
Harry  Perry  at  that  early  period  gave  evidence 
of  his  wondrous  facial  powers,  his  imitations 
were  remarkable,  and  he  was  at  home  in  all  he 
attempted.  I  recall  the  names  of  Mr.  Graham, 
a  tragedian  of  great  ability,  who  died  very  sud- 
denly during  the  season,  and  of  Mr.  Charles 
Bass,  the  old-time  New  York  favorite ;  with  Sils- 
bee,  Mile.  Franck  and  others ;  but  all,  including 
the  manager  Mr.  Bates,  and  Mr.  Malone  Ray- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  209 

mond  the  stage  manager,  have  passed  to  the  "  far 
beyond."  At  this  time  I  received  an  offer  from 
the  managers  of  the  National  Theatre  in  Boston, 
and  returned  to  my  "native  heather"  after  an  ab- 
sence of  ten  years.  Mr.  Pelby,  my  first  manager 
was  dead,  and  the  theatre  was  opened  under  the 
management  of  Messrs.  Wright  and  Fenno. 
The  opening  night  presented  Miss  Fanny  Wai- 
lack  in  the  character  of  "  Martha  Gibbs,"  and 
myself  as  "  Stephen  Plum,"  in  the  comedy  of 
"  All  that  Glitters  is  not  Gold."  Miss  Wallack 
is  a  kinswoman  of  the  Wallack  family,  but  I 
know  not  in  what  exact  relation.  In  speaking  of 
her  opening  performance,  an  accomplished  critic 
of  the  day,  after  summing  up  the  points  of  merit, 
declared  that  she  "  astonished  every  one  by  the 
force  and  brilliancy  of  her  acting."  "  Martha 
Gibbs  "  and  "  Stephen  Plum  "  were  called  before 
the  curtain,  and  speech-making  was  the  order  of 
the  evening. 

The  "  Prairie  Bird  "  was  produced  and  ran  a 
week,  and  this  is  another  pleasant  memory,  for 
my  old  friends  up  to  this  period  had  known  me 
only  as  an  actor.  At  this  time  I  first  knew  Mr. 
Barney  Williams,  of  whom  I  shall  have  more  to 
say  anon.  In  December  the  "  Millionaire  "  was 
presented,  amd  my  pardonable  pride  was  again 
gratified,  for  it  was  received  well  by  the  audience, 
and  pleasantly  spoken  of  by  the  press. 


210  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

After  twenty  years'  absence,  Mme.  Celeste  re- 
appeared with  an  English  reputation,  and  was 
warmly  received ;  and  Miss  Fanny  Wallack 
played  a  second  successful  engagement,  followed 
by  one,  cnt  off  subsequently  in  the  prime  of  his 
powers,  who  was  acknowledged  to  stand  in  the 
front  rank  among  the  great  actors  of  his  time — 
Mr.  Gustavus  Vaughn  Brooke.  He  opened  in 
"  Sir  Giles  Overreach,"  and  made  a  most  marked 
impression.  There  was  an  intensity,  a  fire  of 
energy  in  his  representations  that  took  captive 
the  auditor,  whether  he  would  or  no  ;  and  he  was 
always  so  essentially  in  earnest  that  he  inspired 
those  who  acted  with  him  with  the  same  feeling. 
The  magnetism  of  an  earnest  actor  is  more  likely 
to  develop  what  is  worthy  of  development  in  the 
histrionic  Neophite,  than  the  chilly,  arms-length 
manner  and  spirit  wiiich  says,  "  stand  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  be  a  nonentity  ;  do  nothing."  The  Mac- 
ready  theory  was  the  very  reverse  of  the  Booth 
school ;  the  one  said,  "  I'll  do  all  the  acting,"  the 
other  said,  "Act  up  to  me."  Brooke  was  a  disci- 
ple of  the  Booth  school.  His  end  was  a  tragic 
one  ;  he  perished  at  sea. 

On  the  i Qth  of  April  the  season  was  brought 
to  an  abrupt  close  by  the  destruction  of  the 
theatre  by  fire.  Mr.  George  Vandenhoff  and 
Mrs.  Sinclair  were  playing  an  engagement  at 
the  time.  Mr.  Vandenhoff  was  a  highly  educated 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  2 1 1 

gentleman,  and  had,  I  believe,  in  the  earlier  por- 
tion of  his  life,  been  a  practitioner  at  the  bar. 
He  would  have  been  thought  a  great  actor,  had 
he  not  been  preceded  by  a  greater  Vandenhoff. 
Mrs.  Sinclair  had  become  famous  from  the  noto- 
riety of  the  Forrest  divorce.  She  subsequently 
became  a  manageress  in  San  Francisco. 

This  lady  and  gentleman  had  appeared  in  the 
"  School  for  Scandal "  on  the  night  of  the  con- 
flagration, and  the  piece  announced  for  the  fol- 
lowing evening  was  represented  on  the  stage  of 
the  old  "  Boston  Theatre,"  which  was  courteously 
offered  to  the  burnt-out  "  Thespians."  The  des- 
truction of  the  "  National  Theatre  "  was  com- 
plete. Of  all  that  it  contained,  nothing  was 
saved,  and  the  only  relic  of  paper,  book,  or  man- 
uscript found,  was  a  play-bill  with  a  charred  bor- 
der, of  the  "  Prairie  Bird,"  which  was  picked  up 
in  the  vicinity  and  given  to  me  as  a  "  memory  " 
of  the  old  "  National  Theatre  "  fire. 

I  accompanied  Mr.  Vandenhoff  and  Mrs.  Sin- 
clair to  Portland  for  a  few  nights,  which  were 
supplemented  by  a  few  more  with  Miss  Kimber- 
ley.  This  lady  aspired  to  the  position  of  a  star, 
but  she  shone  with  a  feeble  light. 

The  manager  of  this  adventure  was  Mr.  J.  P. 
Addams.  Mr.  Addams  is  one  of  my  memories, 
and,  on  the  whole,  a  very  merry  one.  I  first 
knew  him  as  a  handsome  page  in  the  spectacle 


212  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  "  Cinderella,"  in  the  time  of  the  "  Woods." 
He  grew  up  more  inclined  to  be  a  tragedy  hero 
than  a  comic  one,  but  he  had  the  elements  to 
make  a  successful  comedian.  He  was  a  younger 
brother  of  Augustus  Addams,  who,  if  he  had 
lived,  would  have  been  the  "  dramatic  Caesar," 
but  he  died  young.  J.  P.  Addams  was  always 
ready  for  anything,  and  equal  to  anything.  I 
think  he  would  have  been  a  successful  rival  to 
the  most  eminent  itinerant  "  Napoleon  "  that  ever 
tramped  through  England  in  the  strollers'  palmy 
days.  With  a  black  cloak  and  a  black  wig  ;  with 
a  black  cloak  and  a  red  wig,  he  was  ready  for 
any  tragic  or  comic  part  at  ten  minutes  notice. 
I  met  Mr.  Addams  after  a  lapse  of  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  on  the  Pacific  coast.  He 
had  just  returned  from  Australia,  where  Fortune, 
he  informed  me,  had  been  fickle ;  his  appearance 
confirmed  the  truth  of  his  words.  He  returned, 
I  believe,  to  the  Atlantic  coast,  and,  I  think,  is 
still  alive.  I  hope  he  is,  at  any  rate,  and  pros- 
perous, for  he  is,  indeed,  a  pleasant  old  memory. 
Within  the  following  six  months  I  played 
occasionally  at  Bangor,  Belfast,  Orono  and  Old- 
town,  in  the  State  of  Maine,  and  at  Worcester 
and  Lowell,  in  Massachusetts.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  Lowell,  none  of  these  towns  boasted 
of  a  theatre,  and  the  "temple  of  the  muses  "  was 
the  town  or  some  other  hall.  At  Orono,  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  213 

teachings  of  the  drama  were  dispensed  from  the 
vestry  of  the  Universalist  church,  and  at  Oldtown 
from  the  vestry  of  the  Episcopal  church,  and  the 
priestesses  were  Mrs.  English  and  her  two 
daughters,  Lucille  and  Helen  Western ;  both  of 
these  young  girls  became  good  actresses,  and 
Helen,  especially,  made  a  great  reputation  in  after 
years ;  both  are  now  dead,  and  their  mother,  Mrs. 
English,  is  an  inmate  of  the  "  Forrest  Home." 

Almost  immediately  upon  the  destruction  of 
the  "  National,"  steps  were  taken  for  the  erection 
of  a  new  theatre  upon  its  site,  and  on  Monday, 
November  ist,  1852,  the  new  structure,  though 
far  from  completion,  was  opened  to  the  public. 
Mr.  Joseph  Leonard,  a  well-known  auctioneer, 
was  the  head  and  front  of  the  enterprise,  and  was 
the  first  manager  of  the  "  New  National ;"  he  was 
a  lover  of  the  drama;  liberal,  but  inexperienced 
and  over-confident,  and  soon  found  to  his  cost 
that  every  man  cannot  urun  a  theatre"  any  more 
than  a  hotel. 

The  address  for  the  opening  was  from  the  pen 
of  Mr.  W.  O.  Eaton,  a  brother  of  Charles  Eaton, 
and  I  was  selected  to  deliver  it.  The  programme 
included  the  comedy  of  the  "  Heir-at-Law,"  and 
a  farce  ;  and  the  "  Dr.  Pangloss"  of  the  play  was 
a  gentleman  who  afterwards  rose  to  fame  and 
fortune  by  his  remarkable  performance  of  the 


214  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

most  remarkable  character  of  the  idiotic  drama 
ever  exhibited. 

Mr.  Douglas  Steuart,  or  Mr.  E.  A.  Sothern  (I 
do  not  know  which  was  his  true  name)  was  an- 
nounced as  from  the  "  Theatre  Royal,  Birming- 
ham— his  first  appearance  in  America,"  and  his 
debut,  which  was  expected  to  be  a  success,  proved 
a  sad  failure.  By  mutual  agreement  with  the 
manager  he  soon  after  withdrew  from  the  theatre, 
and  subsequently  played  juvenile  tragedy  in 
Wallack's  Old  Theatre  in  New  York,  and  was,  I 
believe  a  member  of  Laura  Keene's  company 
when  a  sketch  part  in  that  burlesque  of  New  Eng- 
land character  called  "Our  American  Cousin" 
gave  the  opportunity,  which  with  great  tact  he 
improved,  to  build  up  that  most  laughable  mon- 
strosity, too  ridiculous  for  thought,  too  absurd 
for  criticism,  utterly  unlike  any  creature  with 
the  human  form  ever  seen  under  the  heavens 
above  or  upon  the  earth  beneath — "  Dundreary." 
Mr.  Steuart,  or  Sothern,  affected  other  charac- 
ters, but  he  never  played  anything  but  "  Dun- 
dreary." 

Mrs.  Vickery  and  Mrs.  Archbold  were  also 
new  importations  by  Mr.  Leonard.  The  first 
was  a  tragedienne,  who  did  not  become  popular ; 
the  second  was  a  comedy  "Old  Lady,"  who  did. 
I  last  saw  Mrs.  Archbold  some  years  ago,  when 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  215 

on  a  visit  to  St.  Johns,  New  Brunswick ;  she  is 
in  my  list  of  pleasant  memories. 

Mrs.  George  Barrett,  whom  I  have  mentioned 
in  a  previous  chapter  as  being  "eternally  young" 
re-appeared  as  "Lady  Teazle,"  and  continued  as 
the  support  of  Mr.  J.  W.  Wallack,  who  astonished 
the  old  friends  of  thirty  years  before  by  his  act- 
ing, which  possessed  its  old  artistic  finish  unim- 
paired by  time.  Brooke  followed  Wallack,  and 
Forrest  followed  Brooke,  and  a  large  amount  of 
money  was  received,  but  the  expenses  outran  the 
receipts ;  Mr.  Forrest  demanded  and  received  a 
clear  half.  In  March,  Mr.  Murdoch  appeared 
in  conjunction  with  Miss  Matilda  Heron,  who 
had  not  yet  become  famous,  but  was  on  the  way 
to  fame,  and  Miles'  play  of  "De  Soto"  was  pro- 
duced. 

At  the  close  of  the  month  the  financial  pres- 
sure caused  a  disintegration  of  the  large  com- 
pany, and  I  was  among  those  who  left.  During 
the  summer  I  acted  at  intervals  in  the  New 
England  cities,  and  first  played  with  Mrs.  Anna 
Cora  Mowatt,  at  Worcester.  This  lady,  whose 
name  was  so  familiar  to  the  theatrical  world  of 
thirty-five  years  ago,  was  born  in  Bordeaux,  her 
maiden  name  was  Ogden ;  she  had  been  married 
at  an  early  age  to  Mr.  Mowatt,  a  lawyer,  and  was 
known  as  the  authoress  of  a  number  of  fugitive 
poems,  and  as  a  public  reader,  prior  to  her  ap- 


2i6  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

pearance  on  the  stage,  some  ten  years  before  I 
met  her.  With  youth,  beauty,  a  musical  voice, 
and  a  fair  share  of  talent,  her  career  had  been  a 
social  and  dramatic  triumph,  and  her  success 
upon  the  stage  had  been  supplemented  by  her 
success  as  a  dramatist;  her  two  pi  ays  "Fashion" 
and  "  Armand  the  Child  of  the  People,"  having 
a  considerable  popularity,  though  since  forgotten. 
She  had  visited  Bngland  in  company  with  Mr. 
Edward  Davenport — whose  "subsequent  brilliant 
career  is  well  know — and  was  at  her  zenith  when 
I  acted  with  her.  She  was  pronounced  a  fault- 
less "  Parthenia  "  by  her  admirers,  but  I  have 
played  ulngomar"  to  many  I  thought  her  su- 
perior. Mrs.  Mowatt  soon  after  married  Mr. 
Ritchie  of  Richmond,  and  left  the  stage. 

Mrs.  Melinda  Jones  is  another  "  memory  "  of 
those  summer  days.  She  was  the  wife  of  George 
Jones,  the  "  Count  Joannes,"  from  whom  she  had 
been  a  long  time  separated.  Mrs.  Jones  was  a 
very  good  actress  of  the  heavy  calibre,  but  she 
was  nevertheless  fond  of  playing  sylph-like  parts. 
I  think  she  was  a  Richmond  lady,  and  like  most 
Virginians  was  an  expert  politician.  I  know 
that  from  her  conversation  in  those  days,  I 
fancied  she  was  in  correspondence  with  every 
Senator  and  Representative  from  the  Middle  and 
Southern  States.  She  was  almost  as  fond  of 
what  in  old  days  were  called  breeches  parts  as 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  217 

Charlotte  Cushman,  and  played  "  Claude  Mel- 
notte,"  and  "  Romeo,"  and  "  Richard  III,"  with  a 
great  deal  of  spirit.  I  met  Mrs.  Jones  many 
years  after  in  California,  and  traveled  with  her 
daughter,  Miss  Avonia  Jones,  who  took  high  rank 
as  an  actress,  and  I  think  went  to  Australia  with 
Mr.  G.  V.  Brooke.  Mrs.  Jones  has  been  long 
deceased. 

Another  "  memory "  of  that  summer  is  Mr. 
James  H.  Warwick ;  he  was  a  tragedian,  and 
went  to  California  soon  after,  I  think.  I  knew 
him  well,  and  frequently  acted  with  him  in  the 
Golden  State,  of  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
speak  in  a  future  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Baltimore  Museum — Opening  Address — Mrs.  Silsbee — 
Mr.  William  Ellis— Miss  Marion— Mr.  C.  W.  Tayleure— 
Mr.  B.  Rogers — Mr.  Wm.  R.  Goodall — Miss  Albertine — 
Miss  Maggie  Mitchell — "Sandy"  Jamieson — Departure 
for  California — The  Argonauts — Kingston — "More  Isth- 
muses than  One  " — Early  California  Drama — The  "Eagle 
Theatre  ' '  in  Sacramento — Mr.  McCabe — The  ' '  Metropol- 
itan Theatre, ' '  San  Francisco — Madame  Bishop — Mr.  Wil- 
liam Barry — Caroline  Chapman — Mrs.  Judah — Mrs.  Saun- 
ders — Mr.  Thayer — Mr.  Rowe — Mr.  Stephen  Massett — 
Telegraph  Hill— Mr.  John  S.  Potter. 

MR.  HENRY  C.  JARRETT,  at  that  time 
manager  of  the  Baltimore  Museum,  was  in 
quest  of  a  stage  manager  for  the  ensuing  season. 
At  the  suggestion  of  my  friend,  James  E.  Mur- 
dock,  Esq.,  a  correspondence  with  that  gentleman 
resulted  in  my  engagement.  During  the  sum- 
mer I  visited  Philadelphia  and  played  for  a  few 
weeks  at  the  u  National  Theatre  " — or  rather 
"  Amphitheatre  "  —in  Chestnut  street,  under  the 
management  of  General  Rufus  Welsh.  Several 
grand  equestrian  pieces  were  produced,  under  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  219 

stage  direction  of  Mr.  George  Harris,  the  lead- 
ing lady  being  Mrs.  Gladstone,  a  beautiful 
woman  and  a  charming  actress. 

On  Monday,  the  29th  of  August,  the  Balti- 
more Museum  opened  with  Boucicault's  play  of 
u  Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts,"  and  the 
"  Rough  Diamond,"  preceded  by  an  opening  ad- 
dress, written  and  spoken  by  the  stage  manager. 
With  an  author's,  I  hope,  pardonable  vanity,  I 
take  an  author's  liberty  to  insert  here  a  portion 
of  that  address. 

%          -*          *          -*          *          •*          * 

' '  Our  cause,  the  drama  !  when  the  sombre  night 
Of  barbarism  fled  before  the  light 
Of  Grecian  splendor ;  in  the  classic  land 
Where  art  was  born,  where  Homer's  mighty  hand 
Seized  on  the  magic  lyre  of  poesy 
And  swept  its  chords  for  immortality; 
There,  truth -begotten  in  auspicious  hour, 
To  sway  the  human  heart  with  wizard  power, 
To  light  the  heart  and  lift  the  soul  of  man, 
The  star-gemm'd  goddess  first  her  course  began. 

And  what  has  been  her  course,  her  teachings  ?  Say, 
Are  they  what  slander  calls  them  ?    Does  she  lay 
A  snare  for  virtue 's  footsteps  ?     Is  her  smile 
That  of  a  siren — only  guilt  and  guile  ? 
Turn  to  her  records  ;  scan  them,  naught  impedes ; 
Follow  her  path  and  scrutinize  her  deeds. 

In  the  long  lapse  of  centuries  whose  tide 
Has  swept  o'er  systems  that  have  lived  and  died, 
O'er  thrones  and  altars,  dynasties  and  states, 
O'er  kings  and  kaisers,  priests  and  potentates, 
Through  chaos,  weal  or  woe,  the  drama  still 
Survives,  her  glorious  mission  to  fulfill. 


22O  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

The  blind  fanatic,  who,  in  righteous  zeal, 

Breaks  his  Creator's  image  on  the  wheel, 

And  that  more  odious  bigot  who,  despite 

Of  clearer  reason  and  of  truer  light, 

Hates  with  a  holy  hatred,  everyone 

Whose  creed  a  hair's  breadth  differs  from  his  own  ; 

The  stony-hearted  usurer,  who  rears 

His  wealth  on  widowrs'  sighs  and  orphans'  tears; 

The  shallow  empiric,  who,  with  gold  in  view, 

Depletes  his  patients'  veins — and  pockets,  too; 

The  demagogue,  who,  with  no  selfish  wishes, 

lyoves  his  dear  country — and  her  loaves  and  fishes ; 

The  brainless  fop,  who  breaks  his  stays,  and  dies 

For  one  dear  smile  from  "darling  Julia's  eyes;" 

The  fool  of  fashion  and  the  idle  drone, 

Who  live  by  thews  and  sinews  not  their  own ; 

The  vSolemn  blockhead,  big  with  pompous  speech; 

The  casuist,  whose  metaphysics  teach 

That  wicked  means  may  serve  a  holy  end ; 

The  perjured  lover  and  the  faithless  friend — 

For  these  the  drama  barbs  her  shining  dart, 

And  sends  her  arrows  quivering  to  the  heart. 

But,  for  the  modest  maid,  the  striving  youth, 
The  faithful  teacher  and  the  man  of  truth  ; 
For  stern  integrity  that  walks  the  road 
Of  duty,  with  reliance  upon  God; 
For  meek-eyed  charity,  that  thinks  no  harm; 
For  honesty  that  knows  no  "itching  palm;" 
For  every  noble  thought  and  manly  sense 
The  drama  pleads  with  burning  eloquence. 
When  tyrants  scourge  the  brave  and  bind  the  free, 
The  drama's  clarion  voice  for  liberty 
Talks  to  the  nations,  and  her  tocsin  bell 
Inspires  a  Washington,  or  nerves  a  Tell  ; 
Her  purpose  still,  as  when  her  course  began, 
To  light  the  path  and  cheer  the  heart  of  man. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  221 

Mrs.  J.  Silsbee,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Josh  Silsbee, 
the  Yankee  comedian,  was  the  tragedy  lady  of 
the  company.  She  was  the  former  wife  of  a  Mr. 
Gilbert,  of  the  firm  of  Gilbert  and  Trowbridge, 
who  were  itinerant  managers  in  the  New  England 
States  when  my  theatrical  life  began.  She  was 
a  highly  intelligent  woman  and  a  very  good 
actress,  and  had  often  played  with  the  prominent 
stars  of  the  day.  I  believe  Mrs.  S.  subsequently 
became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Chapman,  the  popular 
low-comedian  of  the  Walnut  St.  Theatre. 

Miss  Marion  was  a  young  lady  of  no  great 
artistic  pretentious,  but  a  local  favorite.  I  recall 
her  name  with  a  sad  remembrance  of  the  tragic 
end  which  befel  her  some  years  later,  when  a 
dreadful  crime  committed  in  New  England 
startled  the  community. 

Mr.  William  Ellis  was  the  "  old  man  "  of  the 
company ;  with  a  wonderful  study  he  combined  an 
adaptability  for  serious  or  comic  roles  that  made 
him  a  valuable  acquisition.  Mr.  Ellis  had  also  a 
taste  for  painting,  and  some  of  his  cabinet  pict- 
ures possessed  great  merit.  There  was  a  kind  of 
incipient  insanity  in  his  deportment  at  times, 
that  was  painfully  suggestive  of  what  eventually 
became  raving  madness.  He  died  many  years 
since. 

Mr.  Clifton  W.  Tayleure,  then  a  young  man, 
though  engaged  to  play  old  parts,  is  remembered 


222  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

as  an  old  friend,  although  he  did  think  that  in 
my  official  capacity  I  ignored,  at  times,  his  just 
pretensions.  What  stage  manager  living  or  dead 
ever  escaped  such  a  charge  ?  Mr.  Tayleure  has, 
I  think,  in  later  years,  been  successful  as  a 
dramatist. 

Mr.  Benjamin  G.  Rogers,  the  low-comedian, 
was  at  that  early  day  a  capable  and  pleasing 
actor.  For  nearly  thirty  years  I  had  not  seen 
this  gentleman;  when,  in  1883,  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  grasping  his  hand  in  San  Francisco,  and 
renewing  the  memories  of  the  past.  Mr.  Rogers 
is  now  a  valuable  member  of  Mr.  Laurence 
Barrett's  company,  respected  in  public  and  private, 
a  happy,  contented  man. 

The  scenic  artist  of  the  u  Museum  "  was  Mr. 
Charles  Getz,  who  has  since  attained  to  the 
highest  rank  as  a  painter.  I  deem  it  unneces- 
sary to  dwell  upon  what  transpired  during  the 
ten  month's  season  in  which  I  occupied  a  novel 
position,  and  in  which  Silsbee,  who  was  our  first 
star,  played  one  engagement ;  Miss  Jean  Daven- 
port, two ;  the  Bateman  Children,  one ;  Mrs. 
Charles  Howard,  the  lovely  woman  and  fine  vocal- 
ist, one;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams,  two;  Mr. 
Wm.  R.  Goodall,  two ;  Miss  Julia  Dean,  one ; 
Mr.  John  E.  Owens,  three ;  Mr.  F.  S.  Chanfrau 
and  Miss  Albertine,  two ;  Mrs.  Farren,  two ;  the 
"  Boone  "  Sisters,  one  ;  and  Mrs.  Melinda  Jones, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  223 

one ;  and  of  which  the  specialty  was  the  produc- 
tion of  the  "  Last  Days  of  Pompeii,"  to  which 
the  manager  contributed  a  liberal  expenditure  of 
money,  and  the  stage  manager  all  the  skill  and 
knowledge  he  possessed.  It  had  a  prosperous 
run  of  three  weeks,  and  the  "  Millionaire  "  and 
"  Germantown,"  each  a  run  of  one. 

Mr.  W.  R.  Goodall,  whom  I  have  mentioned, 
was  a  young  man  of  great  promise,  personally 
very  handsome,  and  possessing  remarkable  versa- 
tility, in  many  respects  he  was  not  unlike  Mr. 
Harry  Perry.  His  imitative  power  was  great, 
and  if  he  had  lived,  I  think  he  would  have  been 
eminent.  His  performance  of  "  Bdward  Middle- 
ton,"  in  the  drama  of"  The  Drunkard,"  was  almost 
painful,  in  its  startling  truth  to  nature.  He  died 
young.  The  "  Boone  "  children  were  two  little 
precocities  in  the  "  Bateman "  style,  and  were 
clever,  and  the  "  Batemans "  were  more  clever 
than  when  I  had  seen  them  in  St.  Louis. 

Miss  Albertine  was  in  those  days  very  popu- 
lar in  many  parts  which  demanded  male  attire. 
For  some  time  she  had  professionally  traveled 
with  Mr.  F.  S.  Chanfrau,  and  the  combined  at- 
traction made  them  lucrative  stars.  She  was  a 
little  woman,  of  great  physical  endurance,  and 
sang  and  played  with  spirit.  I  shall  have  more 
to  say  of  this  lady  when  I  get  to  California. 


224  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

The  Agricultural  Fair  week  of  the  Maryland 
Society,  was  an  event  which  then  drew  (as  I  sup- 
pose it  does  now)  great  crowds  to  Baltimore,  and 
the  attractiveness  of  all  public  entertainments 
was  somewhat  exaggerated  by  those  who  ran 
them,  in  order  to  attract  public  attention.  In 
this  race  of  hyperbole  the  "  Museum  "  entered 
for  the  time,  perhaps  with  questionable  taste.  I 
append  the  heading  of  one  of  my  bills  during 
fair  week : — 

AS  A  FITTING  PRELUDE 

To  usher  in  the  celebration  of  the 

ANNUAL    GALA 

Which  confers  on  the  Free  Citizens  of  our 
NOBLE   OLD   STATE, 

Happiest  among  the  Happy  Republics  which 

compose  the  Brilliant  Constellation  of 

Independent    Commonwealth, 

the  Honorable  Rewards 

— THAT — 

HONEST   LABOR, 

MECHANICAL   INGENUITY, 

AND   MENTAL   PROGRESS 

Always  command  in  this 

ENLIGHTENED    COMMUNITY, 

The  Management  of  this  Established  and  Popu- 
lar Resort  offer  to  the  Thousands  of 

CITIZENS   AND   STRANGERS 

Who  are  waiting  to  throng  within  its  portals, 
the  following  bill  for  the  evening: 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  225 

The  season  closed  on  the  i2th  of  June,  and 
during  the  nearly  ten  months  of  its  continuance, 
successfully  held  its  own  against  all  rivals, 
among  which,  a  handsome  new  theatre,  erected 
for  and  opened  by  Miss  Laura  Keene,  was  the 
most  formidable. 

The  benefit  of  the  stage  manager,  which  was 
announced  as  his  "  Farewell,  prior  to  his  depart- 
ure for  California,"  filled  the  house  to  repletion. 
The  play  was  Schiller's  tragedy  of  "  The  Rob- 
bers." "  Charles  de  Moor,"  first  time,  Mr.  Wal- 
ter M.  Leman. 

During  that  winter,  as  much  for  a  change  as 
for  profit,  with  the  approval  of  Mr.  Jarrett,  I  ran 
up  to  the  little  town  of  Cumberland,  Md.,  and 
played  three  nights.  The  "  Mrs.  Haller  "  to  my 
"  Stranger,"  was  Mrs.  John  Ellsler,  whose  daugh- 
ter, Miss  Eifie  Ellsler,  was  the  charming  "  Hazel 
Kirke  "  of  the  Madison  Square  combination,  so 
well  known,  and  whose  courtesy  and  professional 
kindness  was  evinced  at  a  subsequent  date  in  a 
manner  most  grateful  to  me.  The  "Charlotte," 
with  a  song,  was  Maggie  Mitchell — that  was 
thirty-three  years  ago,  and  she  hadn't  discovered 
"Fanchon,"  or  "Little  Barefoot;"  and  the 
"  Peter  "  was  Mr.  T.  E.  Owens,  a  brother  of  Mr. 
John  Owens ;  this  gentleman  recently  died,  an 
old  man,  in  the  "  Forrest  Home." 


226  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

At  the  close  of  the  season  I  spent  six  weeks  in 
the  towns  of  Frederick  and  Hag^rstown,  where, 
with  a  small  company,  a  series  of^performances 
was  given  with  success.  Our  orchestra  was  un- 
der the  direction — as  the  bills  stated — of  the 
"  celebrated  leader  and  composer,  Alexander 
Jamieson,  Esq." 

I  presume  that  there  are  not  many,  even  of  the 
musical  profession,  now  alive,  who  remember 
"  Sandy  Jamieson."  He  was  an  old  man  at  the 
time  of  which  I  write,  and  he  lived  many  years 
longer,  being,  I  think,  over  ninety  years  of  age 
at  his  decease.  But  in  spite  of  years,  which  he 
never  made  any  account  of,  he  was  perennially 
and  eternally  young — young  in  heart,  young  in 
feeling,  young  in  spirit.  Poor  Sandy's  gone,  but 
if  he  fiddles  in  another  world,  I  am  sure  he'll 
fiddle  none  but  the  liveliest  tunes.  Pleasant 
memories  are  those  of  my  bright  summer  days 
in  Frederick  and  Hagerstowii ;  the  merry  pic- 
nics we  enjoyed  on  the  banks  of  the  Antietam 
creek,  and  the  ride  over  the  South  mountain  were 
dashed  with  no  vision  of  the  struggle  so  soon  to 
come,  when  friends  and  brothers  should  meet  to 
shed  each  other's  blood.  It  is  indeed  well  that 
we  cannot  see  into  the  future. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1854,  the  good 
steamer,  "  Empire  City,"  cleared  from  New  York 
to  San  Francisco,  with  some  five  hundred  passen- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  227 

gers,  the  writer  of  these  "  Memories  "  being  one. 
Among  them  were  grave  L.  L.  D.'s,  and  wise  M. 
D.'s,  merchants  and  speculators  and  astute  politi- 
cians, hardy  men  of  toil,  chevaliers  d'industrie, 
scheming  widows,  and  ambitious  mammas,  and 
expectant  young  lady  daughters,  and  curly- 
headed  children,  and  infants,  "mewling  and  puk- 
ing in  the  nurse's  arms."  We  sped  over  a  sunny 
sea  with  scarce  a  ripple  on  its  surface;  and  most 
of  those  who  were  going  to  California  for  the 
first  time,  were  resolved  to  make  their  pile  in 
one  year,  or  two  at  the  most,  and  go  back  home 
to  enjoy  it. 

Those  who  had  been  in  California  had  a  sen- 
tentious manner  of  expressing  their  contempt 
for  the  visionary  ideas  of  some  of  the  new  Argo- 
nauts, which  plainly  indicated  a  doubt  of  their 
ever  going  back  at  all.  An  eminent  traveler  and 
explorer,  afterwards  a  candidate  for  the  Chief 
Magistracy  of  the  Union;  another  prominent 
politician,  who  subsequently  became  Governor 
of  California — now  deceased ;  the  wife  of  a  well- 
known  San  Francisco  journalist;  and  a  young 
lady  of  peculiarly  strong-minded  proclivities,  who 
entertained  the  idea  that  she  could  revolutionize 
society  on  the  Pacific  Coast  by  delivering  lectures 
on  Women's  Rights  in  the  mining  regions — 
where  there  was  not,  on  an  average,  one  female 
to  forty  square  miles  of  territory  —  at  four 


228  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

bits  a  head ;  together  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Barney  Williams  and  myself,  formed  a  por- 
tion of  the  company  allotted  to  the  captain's 
table ;  and  the  conversation  at  meals,  and  in 
the  saloon  on  deck  sometimes  took  a  peculiarly 
ludicrous  and  entertaining  turn. 

As  usual,  in  those  early  days,  the  "  Isthmus" 
was  a  common  topic  of  conversation.  "  When 
shall  we  reach  it?"  and  aHow  shall  we  succeed 
in  getting  across?"  were  on  everyone's  lips. 
Like  "  Lord  Duberly,"  our  Irish  comedian's 
"  kakelology"  had  been  neglected  in  his  youth, 
and  I  observed  that  he  never  ventured  a  remark 
about  the  "  Isthmus  ; "  one  evening  he  drew  me 
apart,  and  plunging  right  into  the  core  of  the 
subject,  addressed  me  thus  : 

"  I  say,  Walter,  what  the  d 1  is  all  this 

about  the  Isthmus  ?  They're  all  talking  about 
the  Isthmus — what  is  the  Isthmus,  any  way  ?" 

Amazed,  I  asked,  "  Barney,  don't  you  know  ?" 

"  Burn  me  if  I  do,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  know 
that  it's  something  to  get  over,  somehow  or 
other ;  they  said  so  when  we  left  New  York,  and 
they're  talking  about  it  all  the  time ;  but  what 
it  is,  and  why  they  call  it  an  isthmus,  by  the 
piper,  I  don't  know  ! " 

Amused  at  his  frank  avowal,  I  got  the  map 
from  the  cabin  and  explained  the  knotty  prob- 
lem ;  and  when  he  got  it  through  his  brain,  he 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  229 

burst  out  with,  an  expression  of  joy  :  "  Oh  !  by 
the  holy  Mother !  I  see  it  now ;  and  there's 
more  Isthmuses  than  one!"  And  from  that 
moment,  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  he  talked 
"  Isthmus  "all  the  way  down  to  Aspinwall.  I 
don't  know  that  any  geographical  knowledge 
was  necessary,  however,  to  a  man  who,  in  less 
than  a  year,  made  twenty  thousand  dollars,  play- 
ing Irish  farces  in  California. 

We  coaled  the  ship  at  Kingston,  Jamaica, 
which  service  was  performed  by  women,  an  end- 
less procession  going  up  one  gang-plank,  dump- 
ing the  bucket  of  coal  (which  they  carried  on 
their  heads)  as  they  reached  the  deck,  and  re- 
turning by  another.  I  thought  that  the  servile 
and  laborious  operation  of  these  poor  negresses 
might  interest  our  woman's  rights  advocate,  but 
she  made  no  sign. 

The  crossing  of  the  Isthmus  was  an  adventure 
in  those  days.  The  railroad  had  been  completed 
for  about  one-half  the  distance  to  Panama ;  we 
stepped  from  the  cars  into  mud  'up  to  our  knees, 
and  we  had  a  lively  time  getting  mules,  for  which 
each  passenger  had  been  given  a  ticket  by  the 
agent.  The  famous  "military  road" — built,  as 
we  were  told,  by  Cortez  or  Pizarro  or  some  other 
old  hidalgo,  three  or  four  centuries  ago — was 
nothing  but  a  bridle-trail,  worn  down  in  many 
places  by  those  patient  beasts,  the  mules,  into  a 


330  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

kind  of  ravine  or  canon,  where  it  was  impossible 
for  the  animals  to  pass  each  other,  and  the  rider 
had  to  take  his  or  her  chance  of  being,  like  Sir 
Harcourt,  "  rubbed  off,"  or  of  backing  off  his 
donkey's  back,  and  leaving  the  two  amiable 
quadrupeds  to  settle  the  "right  of  passage"  in 
their  own  way. 

Those  ladies  of  the  company  who  rode  astride, 
made  the  trip  with  comparative  comfort,  and 
indeed  no  equestrienne  should  travel  the  moun- 
tains in  any  other  manner.  I  enjoyed  the  whole 
thing  hugely.  I  had  not  been  in  the  saddle  since 
my  boyhood,  and  rarely  then ;  but  tucking  my 
trousers  into  my  boots,  and  a  bottle  of  claret  in 
each  pocket,  with  a  cry  of  "  hip-la-mula !  "  I  was 
the  second  one  of  our  company  to  ride  through 
the  gates  of  Panama,  and  the  wife  of  our  California 
journalist  was,  I  think,  the  third,  and  she,  like  a 
sensible  woman,  rode  astride. 

We  were  told  that  we  should  have  the  steamer 
"  Golden  Gate  "  on  the  Pacific,  but  were  disap- 
pointed in  finding  the  old  "  California  "  instead, 
and  were  seventeen  days  to  San  Francisco,  mak- 
ing twenty-nine  from  New  York,  but  a  little  more 
than  four  times  as  long  as  it  takes  to  make  the 
trip  now.  Of  the  half  thousand  souls  that  came 
with  me  over  two  oceans  towards  the  setting  sun, 
all  are  scattered.  How  many  survive,  how  many 
have  crossed  a  wider  ocean — who  can  tell  ? 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  231 

At  the  time  I  arrived  in  California,  the  drama 
was,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  phrase,  full-born. 
Only  five  years  had  elapsed  since  the  "  Eagle 
Theatre,"  the  first  building  dedicated  to  the  pur- 
pose of  the  drama  had  been  erected  in  Sacra- 
mento, the  earliest  and  richest  birth  of  the  golden 
age  of  the  Pacific,  a  building  in  size,  thirty  by 
sixty-five  feet,  the  frame  of  which  was  constructed 
of  lumber  costing  from  $600  to  $700  per  thou- 
sand. The  roof  was  covered  with  sheet-iron  and 
tin,  and  the  sides  with  canvas,  costing  one  dollar 
per  yard,  and  sewed  together  at  an  expense  of 
sixteen  dollars  per  day  to  each  man  employed  on 
the  work.  Pieces  of  packing  boxes  served  for 
constructing  the  stage,  which  was  sixteen  feet 
deep ;  the  drop-scenes  were  three,  a  wood,  street 
and  interior  view.  As  an  entrance  to  the  second 
tier  a  step-ladder  was  provided  on  the  outside  of 
the  building,  and  in  deference  to  ladies  canvas 
was  nailed  beneath  it.  In  the  parquette  the  seats 
were  of  rough  boards,  the  bare  ground  serving 
as  floor.  It  was  common  between  the  acts  and 
the  pieces,  for  parties  in  the  pit  to  indulge  in  a 
game  of  monte,  using  the  seats  to  make  their 
"  lay-out  "  upon.  Visitors  purchased  their  tickets 
in  the  adjacent  saloon,  generally  pouring  out  a 
quantity  of  gold  dust  in  the  treasurer's  scales, 
who  took  down  weight,  at  twelve  dollars  to  the 
ounce.  For  this  "  comfortable  and  well-arranged 


232  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

house,"  as  the  u  Placer  Times'"  called  it,  includ- 
ing the  saloon  in  front,  not  less  than  $80,000  was 
expended.  In  speaking  of  the  opening,  the 
Times  said  that  the  "  dress  circle  was  graced  with 
quite  a  number  of  fine  looking,  well  costumed 
ladies,"  and  declared  u  that  the  sight  was  some- 
what revivifying." 

There  is  living  to-day  in  San  Francisco,  one 
gentleman  who  was  a  member  of  that  pioneer 
dramatic  company  of  the  Eagle  Theatre  —  Mr. 
James  H.  McCabe — during  a  long  life,  to  good-luck 
he  has  been  but  a  little  indebted  ;  in  his  acting 
days  his  benefit  nights  were  invariably  spoiled 
by  storm  or  accident.  "  Douglas  "  was  to  have 
been  done  on  one  of  those  occasions  at  the  Eagle 
Theatre ;  he  had  studied  the  words  of  the 
"  Gentle  Anna,"  to  be  recited  in  the  garb  and 
character  of  an  old  man;  Mrs.  Ray  had  grappled 
with  u  Lady  Randolph  ;  "  Jack  Harris  was  sober 
and  perfect  in  "  Glenalvon  ;  "  Atwater  and  Daly 
were  all  right  in  "  Young  Norval  "  and  "  Lord 
Randolph,"  and  all  the  indoor  elements  predicated 
a  triumphant  result,  but  the  storm-king  willed  it 
otherwise  ;  the  water  rose  six  inches  deep  in  the 
pit  before  the  doors  opened,  and  the  play  had 
progressed  but  an  act  or  two  when  the  seats 
ceased  to  afford  a  dry  foundation.  Half  the  town 
was  submerged,  and  the  few  second  floors  then  to 
be  found  in  the  city  of  canvas,  afforded  sleeping 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  233 

apartments  for  but  a  portion  of  its  unhoused  in- 
habitants. Fortunately  the  actors  were  better  be- 
stowed, for  the  stage  was  their  doniicil  by  day 
and  night. 

Mr.  McCabe  has  experienced  many  reverses  of 
fortune,  but  has  always  maintained  an  equanim- 
ity of  temper  and  a  philosophical  spirit,  that  have 
made  him,  although  a  poor,  still  a  happy  old 
man,  an  unpretentious  gentleman  of  inflexible 
integrity  and  sterling  worth.  I  am  proud  to  call 
him  my  friend. 

In  October,  1851,  three  years  before  my  ar- 
rival, the  "Jenny  Lind  Theatre,"  a  large  and 
handsome  house,  rivalling  the  best  theatres  in 
the  Atlantic  States,  and  capable  of  seating  2,000 
persons,  had  been  erected  opposite  the  plaza,  in 
San  Francisco  ;  but  this  had  been  sold  to  the 
municipal  authorities  for  a  city  hall,  and  in  the 
same  year  the  "American  Theatre "  had  been 
erected.  In  1853  the  "  Metropolitan  Theatre," 
a  massive  and  costly  structure,  was  built  by  Mr. 
Joseph  Trench,  and  at  the  time  of  my  arrival 
was  open  with  a  full  company,  under  the  man- 
agement of  Mrs.  Catherine  Sinclair.  Outside  of 
San  Francisco,  there  were  theatres  in  Sacramento 
and  Stockton,  and  possibly  in  one  or  two  other 
towns  in  the  State  ;  and  within  the  following  de- 
cade almost  every  mining  town  possessed  a  build- 
ing devoted  to  theatrical  uses. 


234  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

The  reader  will  understand  how  rapidly  the 
drama,  like  everything  else  of  California  growth, 
advanced  in  those  early  days,  when  he  knows 
that  the  first  theatrical  performance  in  San  Fran- 
cisco had  been  given  in  the  second  story  of  a 
building  opposite  the  plaza,  known  as  "  Wash- 
ington Hall,"  less  than  four  years  before  San 
Francisco  had  left  its  embryo  existence. 

In  Sacramento,  the  "  Eagle  Theatre  "  had  been 
succeeded  by  the  "  Tehama  Theatre,"  and  that 
by  the  "  Pacific  "  and  the  "  American."  In  ad- 
dition to  the  "  Metropolitan  "  and  "  American  " 
theatres,  in  San  Francisco,  there  was  a  small 
house  known  as  the  "Adelphi,"  mainly  devoted 
to  French  performances. 

Far  away  as  San  Francisco  then  seemed  from 
the  rest  of  the  world,  it  had  already  been  visited 
by  some  of  the  brightest  musical  and  dramatic 
luminaries  of  t*he  age,  among  whom  were  found 
the  names  of  Signora  Elisa  Biscaccianti,  Cath- 
arine Hayes,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  J.  E.  Mur- 
doch, James  Stark,  AnnaThillon,  Matilda  Heron, 
Mrs.  Alexina  F.  Baker,  Madame  Anna  Bishop 
and  many  more. 

The  Metropolitan  Theatre  was  certainly  one 
of  the  handsomest  temples  of  dramatic  art  in 
America.  Its  general  construction  interiorly 
was  not  unlike  that  of  the  St.  Charles  Theatre 
in  New  Orleans.  Mrs.  Sinclair's  stage  manager 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  235 

was  Mr.  James  Bowling ;  this  gentleman  I  knew 
for  many  years.  Subsequently  he  met  his  death 
at  the  hands  of  a  variety  actor  named  Tuers, 
accidently,  as  the  jury  declared.  The  musical 
director  was  the  renowned  Bochsa,  with  whom 
Madame  Anna  Bishop  was  so  long  professionally 
associated.  This  lady  I  had  been  slightly 
acquainted  with  in  Philadelphia,  and  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  meet  her  again ;  her  noble  bearing, 
her  grand  stage  presence,  and  fine  delivery  of 
either  recitative  or  air,  claimed  universal  admi- 
ration. She  personated  the  heroes  of  the 
"Othello"  and  "  Tancredi "  style  to  perfection. 
On  one  occasion  in  Boston,  she  appeared  in  cos- 
tume in  two  different  musical  halls  on  the  same 
evening,  arousing  astonishment  and  applause  by 
her  personation  of  "  Othello  "  in  one  place,  and 
the  freedom  of  a  Spanish  girl's  manner  in  the 
other,  as  "  Desdemona." 

She  was  mistress  of  every  style,  and  perhaps, 
as  a  linguist,  her  equal  was  never  known,  twenty 
different  tongues  were  by  her  married  to  music 
with  purity  and  grace  ;  whether  Russian,  French 
or  Hottentot,  their  roughness  became  smooth 
and  liquid.  Who,  that  ever  heard  the  duet  from 
"Linda,"  as  given  by  Madame  Anna  Bishop  and 
Reeves,  can  forget  it.  She  died  at  an  advanced 
age  and  sang  to  the  last,  "  fading  "  from  life  in 


"  music." 


236  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Mr.  William  Barry,  an  eccentric  and  low- 
comedian  of  rare  merit,  was  a  member  of  Mrs. 
Sinclair's  company.  He  was  always  noted  for  a 
rigid  adherence  to  the  author,  and,  I  think,  was 
the  only  actor  in  his  line  that  never  "gagged;  " 
his  performance  of  u  Graves "  in  the  play  of 
"  Money"  and  of  the  "  Gravedigger"  in  "  Hamlet," 
were  near  perfection.  He  died  suddenly  some 
few  years  since.  Mr.  Wm.  B.  Chapman,  a  tal- 
ented member  of  the  numerous  "  Chapman 
Family,"  and  his  sister  Miss  Caroline  Chapman, 
a  most  amiable  woman,  an  exquisite  dancer  and 
an  actress  of  protean  ability,  were  in  the  com- 
pany ;  both  are  long  dead.  Mrs.  Judah  stood 
high  in  public  estimation.  Marietta  Starfield 
Torreiice,  better  known  as  "Mrs.  Judah,"  the 
name  of  her  first  husband,  was  for  the  period  of 
thirty  years  a  universal  favorite  with  the  people 
of  the  Pacific  Coast,  not  only  as  an  actress,  but 
also  in  private  life  ;  four  years  have  passed  since 
she  died,  and  the  habitues  of  the  theatre  still 
think,  as  they  will  think  if  alive,  when  four  and 
twenty  have  elapsed,  that  her  equal  in  her  pecul- 
iar line  never  was  or  will  be.  I  think  no  "Juliet " 
ever  played  in  San  Francisco  that  was  not  over- 
shadowed by  the  u  Nurse  "  of  Mrs.  Judah,  and 
her  appearance  even  in  a  most  insignificant  role, 
was  always  signalized  by  hearty  applause.  She 
died  in  March,  1883  ;  it  was  the  writer's  sad 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  237 

privilege  to  participate  in  the  simple  ceremonial 
of  her  obsequies. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Thoman,  now  Mrs.  Saunders, 
another  early  California  actress,  was  attached 
to  the  company  of  Mrs.  Sinclair — the  mantle 
that  Judah  dropped  fell  upon  Saunders,  albeit 
precarious  health  and  advancing  years  make 
the  burthen  of  active  professional  life  some- 
what irksome.  Mrs.  Saunders  is  a  member  of 
the  "Jefferson"  family,  an  admirable  artist,  an 
admirable  woman,  and  z>,  as  Mrs.  Judah  was,  my 
old  and  valued  friend ;  one  has  passed  away — 
may  I  long  be  able  to  say  of  the  other — u  She 
still  lives." 

Mr.  Edward  N.  Thayer,  another  member  of 
Mrs.  Sinclair's  company,  I  will  mention  as  my 
associate  and  friend  during  a  great  portion  of  the 
period  between  "fifty-four"  and  "eighty-four." 
I  think  that  almost  every  old  Californian  has 
sailed  or  ran  back  and  forth  from  "  Frisco  "  to 
the  "  States"  and  from  the  "States"  to  "Frisco" 
as  we  used  to  say,  from  one  to  a  half  dozen  times, 
excepting  Ned  Thayer.  I  think  that  he  really 
likes  California,  although  he  growls  a  little  occa- 
sionally, and  I  know  that  the  public  like  him, 
and  his  private  friends  like  him  notwithstanding 
his  growling.  Mr.  Thayer  is  a  son  of  the  fine 
actor  I  have  spoken  of  in  an  earlier  chapter,  as 


238  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

connected  with  the  Philadelphia  stage,  and  is  a 
worthy  son  of  an  accomplished  sire. 

I  have  said  that  San  Francisco  theatricals  in 
1854  had  passed  from  the  embryo  stage,  they 
were  in  a  transition  state,  as  was  indeed  the  case 
with  everything  Californian ;  the  city  that  now 
numbers  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants, 
then  had  but  fifty  thousand ;  the  time  had  not 
so  long  gone  by  when  a  woman  walking  along 
the  streets  was  as  much  of  a  sight  as  an  elephant 
or  giraffe  would  be  now ;  where  now  are  miles 
of  lighted  streets  was  then  nothing  but  chap- 
paral  and  lagoon ;  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
conceive  the  difference  between  the  then  and  the 
now. 

The  circus  ante-dated  the  theatre  in  San  Fran- 
cisco early  in  1849  an(^  J85o;  two  had  been 
respectively  opened,  one  by  Mr.  Joseph  Rowe, 
who  still  -lives  in  the  city  which  he  has  seen 
grow  from  nothing  to  empire,  in  which  the  easily 
satisfied  populace  were  content  to  pay,  without  a 
murmur,  three  dollars  for  pit  seats,  five  dollars 
for  box  places,  and  fifty-five  dollars  for  the  luxury 
of  a  private  stall.  Stephen  C.  Massett  came 
next,  after  the  circus  and  ahead  of  the  theatre ; 
and  here  is  a  "  memory  "  indeed  !  Steve  Massett! 
Who  is  there  that  does  not  know  him  ?  or  rather, 
I  should  ask  who  is  there  that  Stephen  C.  Mas- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  239 

sett  does  not  know,  from  "king  and  kaiser," 
to  a  priest  and  potentate  ?  " 

In  the  year  1849,  on  the  evening  of  Monday, 
June  22d,  what  may  be  considered  the  first  among 
the  regular  amusements  of  the  city  was  given  by 
Mr.  Massett  ("Jeems  Pipes")  in  a  school-room, 
which  was  crowded  to  suifocation,  yielding  over 
five  hundred  dollars.  The  front  seats  were  re- 
served for  ladies,  of  whom  there  were  but  four 
present ;  the  Collector  of  the  Port  loaned  the 
piano  used  by  Mr.  Massett  (it  was  the  only  one 
in  the  country),  and  the  porters  received  sixteen 
dollars  for  removing  it  from  the  Custom  House 
to  the  school-room,  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Plaza. 
These  facts  are  stated  on  the  authority  of  "Annals 
of  San  Francisco."  The  entire  performance  was 
given  by  Mr.  Massett.  Tickets  three  dollars 
each.  I  last  saw  Mr.  Massett,  I  think,  in  1881  or 
1882 ;  I  last  heard  of  him  as  traveling  somewhere 
in  the  "  uttermost  bounds  of  the  earth,"  and  mak- 
ing new  acquaintances  among  the  great  men 
thereof. 

Everyone  who  lived  in  San  Francisco  for  a 
long  time  after  the  date  of  my  arrival,  will  re- 
member the  old  Signal  Station  on  the  summit  of 
Telegraph  Hill.  The  signal  for  a  side-wheel 
steamer  in  the  early  days  was  two  long  black- 
boards, extended  like  two  outstretched  uplifted 
arms,  one  on  each  side  of  the  long,  black  signal 


240  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

pole.  Everybody  knew  this  signal,  and  that  the 
P.  M.  S.S.  Go's  steamships  were  all  side-wheelers, 
and  one  can  hardly  understand,  now,  the  excite-' 
ment  created  by  the  signal  for  a  side-wheel 
steamer. 

One  night  the  "  Hunchback  "  was  being  played 
at  the  "American  Theatre;"  the  house  was 
crowded,  and  the  play  had  progressed  to  the 
scene  of  "Julia's"  quarrel  with  "Clifford,"  at 
the  point  of  " Master  Walter's "  excited  entrance; 
the  actor's  figure,  dressed  entirely  in  black,  stood 
in  bold  relief  against  the  light-colored  scenery  of 
the  drawing-room ;  throwing  up  his  arms  long 
and  black,  he  shouted,  "  What  does  this  mean?" 
"  Side-wheel  steamer  ! "  roared  a  stentorian  voice 
from  the  gallery.  The  play  was  suspended  "for 
a  time." 

Another  "  memory  "  of  Mrs.  Sinclair's  company 
comes  back — of  Potter — the  ubiquitous,  the  ever- 
persuasive,  the  always-promising  John  S.  Potter. 
The  man  who  built  more  theatres  and  opened 
more  theatres,  and  closed  more  theatres — I  think 
he  closed  twice  as  many  as  he  ever  opened — than 
any  man  in  the  Union  or  out  of  it.  Mr.  Potter 
was  a  most  remarkable  character ;  he  was  gifted 
with  the  organ  of  hope  so  largely  that  he  could 
see  a  silver-lining  to  the  darkest  cloud  in  the 
managerial  horizon,  and,  like  Micawber,  was 
always  certain  of  something  "  turning  up,"  but 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  241 

the  main  difficulty  with  him  was  his  inability  to 
inspire  his  actors  and  actresses  with  the  same 
buoyant  feeling. 

He  had  opened  I  don't  know  how  many  thea- 
tres in  the  West  and  in  the  Mississippi  Valley 
before  he  reached  California,  and  during  his  Cal- 
ifornia career  he  had  opened  as  many  more  ;  he 
was  always  in  management,  and  I  was  amazed 
that  he  was  enrolled  only  as  an  actor  when  I 
arrived ;  but  he  started  in  on  his  managerial 
career  soon  after ;  he  had  the  reputation  in  the 
West  of  being  able  to  keep  his  forces  together 
without  any  treasure-chest  or  commissariat,  sim- 
ply by  his  persuasive  tongue. 

A  friend  once  found  him  complaining  that  but 
for  the  ambition  of  his  company  his  "  season" 
would  have  been  prosperous ;  and  being  asked 
what  their  ambition  had  to  do  with  his  failure, 
he  replied  that  if  they  hadn't  been  so  ambitious 
for  their  salary  he  could  have  made  money  and 
kept  them  all  together.  '  Another  time,  to  a  poor 
histrion  who  begged  in  vain  for  a  dollar  or  two 
of  his  unpaid  salary,  he  replied :  "  What,  ask 
for  salary  when  blackberries  are  ripe !" 

He  would  any  time,  like  Mr.  J.  P.  Addams, 
play  any  part  in  the  drama  at  ten  minutes'  no- 
tice, in  a  black  cloak  and  wig,  and  would  get  the 
curtain  up  and  down  again,  shift  all  the  scenes, 
attend  to  the  properties  during  the  performance, 

16 


242  Memories  of  an   Old  Actor. 

and  within  five  minutes  or  less  after  the  fall  of 
the  curtain  would  have  the  receipts  from  the  box 
office  in  his  pocket,  and  be  out  of  sight  of  his 
"ambitious"  actors,  who  waited  around  in  vain 
for  "  salary."  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of 
him  again. 

Among  the  new  parts  that  I  played  during 
something  less  than  five  months  in  which  I  was 
with  Mrs.  Sinclair,  I  recall  "  Ankarstrom  "  in 
"  Gustavus  III,"  the  dual  characters  in  the 
"  Courier  of  Lyons,"  "Job  Thornberry"  in 
"  John  Bull,"  and  one  or  two  more.  The  season 
was  almost  a  failure  ;  the  expenditures  much  too 
heavy  for  the  patronage  of  an  exhausted  public, 
and  many  of  the  stars  had  received  exorbitant 
sums,  inconsistent  altogether  with  their  attrac- 
tion. 

Mr.  Samuel  Colville  was  at  the  time  in  man- 
agement in  Sacramento,  and  I  joined  him  in  the 
latter  part  of  January,  1855. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

The  Sacramento  Theatre — Mr.  Venua — Mr.  Dan  Virgil  Gates 
— Mr.  James  Stark  —  Mr.  Warwick  —  Mr.  Folland  —  Mr. 
Dumphries  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kent  —  Mr.  Joseph  Wilder  — 
Laura  Keene — Lola  Montez's  Marriage — Mr.  Edwin  Booth 
— The  Gougenheims — The  Forrest  Theatre — Mr.  Charles 
King  —  Mr.  George  Ryer — That  "Rascal  Jack  " —Miss 
Sophie  Edwin — Mr.  John  Woodard — Mr.  Frank  Mayo — 
Mr.  McKean  Buchanan — Mr.  Harry  Palmer — The  Moun- 
tain Runaway  —  Poker — Jimmy  Griffiths  —  The  Narrow 
Escape — Miss  Virginia  Buchanan. 

IN  the  summer  of  1883  there  appeared  on  the 
streets  of  Sacramento  a  singular  figure,  clad 
in  buck-skin  coat  and  trousers,  with  head  sur- 
mounted by  a  time-worn  cap,  from,  under  which 
flowed  to  the  shoulders  an  abundance  of  gray 
hair,  and  a  full,  snow-white  beard.  This  figure 
gave  to  the  curious  great  food  for  conjecture,  and 
to  the  older  residents  a  sensation  of  surprise  that 
one  who  had  been  supposed  dead  should  re-visit 
the  scenes  of  his  former  trials  and  disappoint- 
ments. This  old  man  was  Mr.  Wesley  Venua, 
who,  in  the  year  1852,  in  company  with  two  other 


244  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

gentlemen,  erected  the  theatre  on  Third  street, 
which,  in  January,  1855,  was  managed  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Colville,  "by  whom  I  was  engaged. 

Mr.  Venua's  career  was  a  most  remarkable  one. 
A  native  of  Bngland,  when  a  mere  boy  of  seven- 
teen he  volunteered  into  the  Portuguese  naval 
service,  for  what  was  known  as  the  "  Donna 
Maria  "  war,  and  in  an  engagement  had  the  calf 
of  his  right  leg  shot  away.  In  1834,  he  drifted 
to  the  United  States,  and  eventually  into  one  of 
the  minor  theatres  in  New  York  City.  He  was 
a  member  of  the  company  at  the  St.  Charles 
theatre,  in  New  Orleans,  when  I  was  with  Ludlow 
&  Smith.  From  thence  he  went  through  Mexico 
to  Acapulco,  on  the  Pacific,  and  found  his  way, 
by  a  freight-boat,  to  San  Francisco,  in  the  flush 
times  of  1851.  He  played  in  the  Eagle  Theatre, 
in  Sacramento,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and 
spoke  the  first  line  that  was  uttered  on  the  stage 
of  the  "Jenny  Lind  Theatre,"  in  San  Francisco. 
In  the  year  1864,  becoming  tired  of  society,  he 
took  passage  for  the  South  Seas,  and  resided  for 
four  years  in  the  Society  Islands,  and  went 
thence,  on  board  of  a  French  frigate,  to  France. 
In  1869,  ne  was  in  Italy  and  the  south  of  France, 
and  was  imprisoned  in  Paris  during  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war,  experiencing  the  privations  and 
perils  of  hunger  and  siege.  On  the  entrance  of 
the  Prussians  into  the  French  capital,  he  escaped 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  245 

the  excesses  of  the  "  commune,"  and  went  to 
England,  and  thence  back  to  California,  where 
he  found  that  his  property  had  been  mismanaged, 
and  reduced  to  one-half  its  original  value.  Anx- 
ious to  get  away  from  society,  he  purchased  a 
team,  and  started  to  find  some  abode  of  solitude, 
and  eventually  camped  among  the  Cascade  Moun- 
tains, in  Oregon,  where  he  now  resides. 

He  had  ridden  from  his  mountain  home  to 
Sacramento  in  fifteen  days,  using  one  horse,  for 
which  he  avowed  an  almost  human  affection.  I 
think  that  I  know  that  horse  ;  it  must  be  "  Fox," 
and  yet  that  can  hardly  be.  In  that  first  visit  of 
mine  to  Sacramento,  in  1855,  he  owned  a  horse 
named  u  Fox,"  of  which  he  thought  more  than 
of  any  human  being.  It  was  said  that  he  had 
ridden  Fox  to  the  summit  of  the  Marysville 
Butte,  from  which  he  had  to  be  lowered  with  a 
"  fall  and  tackle;"  but  this  I  will  not  vouch  for. 
Mr.  Venua  was  a  man  capable  of  feeling  for  a 
dumb  brute,  and  when  he  lost  Fox,  he,  without 
doubt,  found  another,  and  attached  him  to  his 
master  by  kindness.  With  his  many  eccentric- 
ities, Mr.  Venua  is  a  man  to  command  respect, 
and  the  "soldier  of  fortune,"  the  u wounded 
sailor,"  the  "histrionic  pioneer,"  the  "voluptuary 
of  the  South  Seas,"  the  "  starveling  of  the  Paris 
siege,"  the  "hermit  of  the  wilds  of  Oregon,"  is 
to  me  a  picturesque  and  pleasant  memory. 


246  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  think  that  I  can  choose  no  more  fitting  place 
to  speak  of  another  old  dramatic  pioneer  on  the 
Pacific  Slope,  well  remembered  by  the  survivors 
of  "  the  days  of  old,  the  days  of  '49,"  Dan  Virgil 
Gates.  Mr.  Gates  was,  I  believe,  a  native  of 
Rochester,  N.  Y.,  where  he  commenced  his 
theatrical  career  with  Mr.  Augustus  Addams. 
He  possessed  rare  imitative  powers,  but  like  most 
young  thespians  inclined  to  tragedy.  He  ap- 
peared in  the  old  American  Theatre  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, in  support  of  Mr.  James  Stark,  in  1851, 
and  for  some  two  years  thereafter  was  a  member 
of  various  organizations,  playing  in  connection 
with  Messrs.  Stark,  Baker  and  Proctor.  In  the 
winter  of  '52-53,  he  was  "  snowed  in  "  at  the  town 
of  Nevada  with  William  Barry,  David  Anderson, 
Edwin  Booth,  and  others,  members  of  the  com- 
pany of  Mr.  Willmarth  Waller,  and  encountered 
with  them  some  of  the  vicissitudes  of  early  Cali- 
fornia life,  which  were  not  confined  to  the  wielders 
of  the  pick  and  shovel  alone. 

Subsequently,  he  traveled  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  State — mounted  like  a  distin- 
guished editor  of  San  Francisco — on  the  back  of 
a  mule ;  a  whole  theatrical  company  condensed 
into  one  man  ;  a  host  in  himself — rang  the  bell 
as  he  entered  into  each  mining  town  or  camp, 
posted  his  own  bills,  beat  his  own  drum,  fiddled, 
sang,  danced,  and  recited,  and  gave  a  ball  after 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  247 

the  dramatic  performance,  to  trie  intense  satis- 
faction of  his  patrons,  who,  to  this  day,  tell  of 
the  glorious  times  they  had  in  the  old  days  with 
Dan  Virgil  Gates.  As  fortune  smiled,  he  dis- 
mounted from  his  mule  and  traveled  with  a  team 
of  two  horses,  and  then  with  a  handsome  turn-out 
of  four,  in  company  with  Mr.  Edmon  S.  Connor, 
another  pioneer  who  was,  like  him,  a  hunter 
for  nuggets  in  the  early  days.  Mr.  Connor  I 
knew  when  we  were  both  young  in  Philadelphia; 
he  had  a  fair  position  before  he  came  to  Cali- 
fornia, though  he  never  attained  to  eminence. 
As  Polonius  says,  he  was  "  a  good  actor,"  if  not 
a  great  one.  Mr.  Connor  used  to  say  jocularly, 
that  "  a  gentleman  was  a  man  who  had  a  gold 
watch  and  forty  dollars  in  his  pocket."  At  this 
date  he  is  living  in  Philadelphia,  and  upwards  of 
eighty  years  old,  hale  and  hearty,  as  I  am  in- 
formed. I  hope  that  he  is  possessed  of  the  watch 
and  dollars,  but  he  has  always  borne  the  char- 
acter of  a  gentleman.  Dan  Virgil  Gates  died  in 
Leadville,  Colorado,  in  1876. 

Mr.  Colville  began  his  short  season  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  James  Stark.  Mr.  Stark  had  been  with 
me  in  New  Orleans,  but  in  the  three  intervening 
years  had  made  a  profitable  visit  to  Australia, 
and  stood  high  in  the  esteem  of  the  public  of 
California,  as  well  as  of  the  Australian  Colonies. 
He  was  an  admirable  actor,  some  few  characters 


248  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

were  exceptionally  fine  in  the  hands  of  James 
Stark.  I  will  instance  "  Richelieu"  and  "  Bever- 
ly," in  the  "  Gamester."  He  was  a  man  of  kind 
and  generous  feelings,  at  one  time  wealthy,  but  I 
think  lost  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  by  unfortunate 
speculation.  He  died,  I  believe,  while  a  member 
of  Mr.  Edwin  Booth's  company  in  New  York. 

James  H.  Warwick  was  another  acquaintance 
renewed  from  previous  years.  I  believe  that  in 
a  preceding  chapter  I  have  said  he  was  a  trage- 
dian, he  was  an  aspiring  tragedian.  I  met  and 
acted  with  Mr.  Warwick  many  times  during  his 
California  career,  up  to  the  time  of  his  entrance 
into  political  life. 

In  1862  he  was  nominated  and  elected  to  the 
lower  house  of  the  California  Legislature,  from 
the  County  of  Sacramento,  and  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  reiterate  before  the  "  assembled  wisdom 
of  the  State,"  a  declaration  that  he  never  omit- 
ted to  make  from  the  stage  when  opportunity 
offered,  "  that  it  was  his  chief  hope  and  wish,  to 
lay  his  bones  in  California."  It  was  a  question 
among  the  miner  patrons  of  the  theatre  in  those 
early  days,  how  Mr.  Warwick  could  make  his 
bones  "  go  round,"  for  he  invariably  promised  to 
lay  them  in  every  town  in  which  he  played.  In 
later  years  I  made  a  summer  trip  through  the 
middle  mining  region  of  the  State  with  Mr. 
George  Mitchell  and  what  he  called  his  "Eques- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  249 

* 
trian    Theatre."       Well,   it  was  an  "  equestrian 

theatre,"  for  we  had  a  horse,  and  Mr.  Warwick, 
and  Mr.  George  Peoples,  and  some  others.  Mr. 
Peoples  was  the  tragedian  who  rode  the  horse  in 
"  Putnam,"  and  Mr.  Warwick  was  the  "  trage- 
dian "  who  played  "Nick  of  the  Woods,"  and  I 
can  certify,  on  oath,  that  Mr.  Warwick  solemnly 
swore  to  "  lay  his  bones  "  in  no  less  than  fifty 
mining  towns  and  camps  during  that  summer. 
I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Warwick  for  many  years, 
but  hope  he  is  alive  and  well,  and  still  has  his 
"  bones  "  with  him. 

There  was  a  young  man  named  Folland  in  the 
company.  I  remember  him  because  his  sad  fate  a 
few  months  later,  impressed  itself  on  my  mind. 
He  accompanied  Lola  Montez  on  her  departure 
from  California  for  Australia,  and  was  lost  at  sea. 

Dumphries  —  "  Dumpsy,"  we  always  called 
him — was  another  of  the  early  California  actors, 
and  he  was  a  good  one.  Short  of  stature,  florid 
complexion,  a  smiling  countenance,  bright,  merry 
eyes,  brown,  curly  hair,  cheerful  temper — such 
was  little  "  Dumpsy,"  and  he  made  our  traveling 
tours  in  those  pleasant  days,  over  the  "  divides," 
down  the  "canons,"  up  the  "grades,"  and  through 
the  piney  woods  all  the  pleasanter  by  his  pres- 
ence, but  he,  like  so  many  more,  is  u  dead  and 
gone." 


250  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

In  the  then  thriving  town  of  Marysville,  which 
was  the  main  depot  for  supplying  the  northern 
mining  region,  a  pretty,  new  theatre  had  been 
erected,  and  thither  I  went,  under  engagement  to 
Mr.  F.  M.  Kent.  He  was  a  low-comedian,  of 
some  merit,  and  his  wife,  an  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful woman,  was  ambitious  to  play  the  heroines 
of  tragedy — indeed,  any  heroines  that  might  be 
roaming  around  loose.  It  was  a  pleasant  trip, 
remembered  for  my  first  acquaintanceship  with 
young  Joseph  Wilder,  at  that  time  a  model  of 
youthful,  manly  beauty,  and  giving  promise  of  a 
great  future;  all  eventually  blighted  by  ill-health, 
misfortune,  and  the  thousand  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to.  Joe,  too,  is  dead  ;  peace  to  his  memory. 

I  returned  to  San  Francisco  under  engagement 
to  Dr.  Spalding,  who  had  leased  the  "  American 
Theatre,"  as  stage  manager,  which  I  resigned  at 
the  end  of  two  weeks,  and  was  succeeded  by  Miss 
Laura  Keene.  I  was  at  this  period  gradually 
drifting  into  the  line  of  old-men  characters,  and 
the  exigencies  of  over-study  made  a  stage  mana- 
ger's duty,  if  properly  attended  to,  almost  im- 
possible ;  and  above  and  beyond  all  other  rea- 
sons, Miss  Keene  was  infinitely  better  qualified. 
So  the  change  was  made,  and  I  was  an  actor 
only.  That  was  a  pleasant  season  ;  I  forget  how 
long  we  were  together,  I  think  some  three  months. 
We  were  strong,  too — Miss  Laura  Keene,  Mrs. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  251 

Judah,    Mrs.    Thomaii,   Miss  Julia    Gould,  Mr. 
Charles  Wheatleigh,  Mr.  J.  A.  Smith  and  others. 

Lola  Montez  is  a  vivid  memory  of  my  early 
California  days.  Just  after  the  commencement 
of  our  season  at  the  "  American  Theatre,"  she 
sailed  in  a  brigantine  for  Australia.  On  the 
night  before  her  departure,  Miss  Laura  Keeiie, 
with  some  of  the  company,  including  myself, 
went  from  the  theatre  after  the  close  -of  the  per- 
formance, to  her  lodgings  at  the  International 
Hotel,  to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  and  say  "  good 
bye."  Lola  was  in  the  highest  spirits,  and  full 
of  pleasant  and  gracious  farewell  words  for  all. 
I  think  that  even  as  early  as  that  time,  she  had 
begun  to  abate  something  of  the  imperious  and 
reckless  manner  for  which  she  had  been  so  notor- 
ious. 

The  career  of  Lola  Montez  was  unmatched  by 
that  of  any  female  bohernian  of  our  time,  and 
her  success  was  world-wide.  An  Irish  girl  of 
uncertain  parentage,  her  only  inheritance  was  a 
face  full  of  expression,  fine  eyes,  and  hair  that  a 
mermaid  might  envy.  As  an  actress  and  dancer, 
even  before  she  had  turned  the  head  of  that  crazy 
old  King  of  Bavaria — whose  weakness,  although 
developed  in  a  different  manner,  seems  to  assert 
itself  in  his  grandson — Lola  had  won  the  hearts 
and  depleted  the  pockets  of  the  half  of  Paris. 


252  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

When  she  had  married  the  art  connoisseur, 
Ludwig,  she  lived  like  a  "  beggar  on  horseback," 
and  ran  him  to  the  verge  of  ruin,  from  which  he 
was  only  saved  by  his  subjects,  who  threatened 
revolution  if  she  were  not  driven  from  the  realm. 
Heart-broken,  he  parted  from  the  syren,  who 
tripped  it  over  to  London,  danced  herself,  after  a 
fashion,  into  notoriety,  and,  after  two  years, 
crossed  the  Atlantic,  traveled  as  an  actress,  de- 
livered lectures,  made  money,  and  lost  it  all ; 
ceased  to  attract,  became  a  victim  of  all  who 
could  get  a  chance  to  rob  her,  and  finally  died  in 
a  second-class  boarding-house  in  the  city  of  New 
York. 

One  of  the  husbands  of  this  much-married 
and  eccentric  woman  was  a  Californian,  and  of 
those  who  witnessed  that  marriage  two  survivors 
remain,  both  personally  known  to  me,  Messrs. 
L.  R.  L.  and  H.  J.  C.  Near  midnight,  previous 
to  the  morning  of  the  eventful  day,  one  of  these 
gentlemen  was  told  as  a  great  secret,  that  "  in 
the  Mission  Church,  to-morrow  morning,  Lola 
Montez  was  to  be  married  to  Pat  Hull,  at  matin 
bells." 

At  sunrise,  near  the  old  Mission  Church,  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  persons  were  walking  listlessly 
around,  as  if  waiting  for  something ;  among 
them  Governor  W.  and  his  wife,  the  only  lady, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  253 

besides  the  bride,  who  was  present  at  the  wed- 
ding. 

Presently  the  carriage  containing  Lola  and 
Hull  drove  up.  Lola  turned,  and  on  entering 
the  church  waved  her  hand  to  close  the  front 
door ;  but  some  forty  spectators  in  all  had  already 
got  inside. 

Lola  carried  in  her  hand  two  vases  containing 
artificial  white  roses,  and  presented  them  to  the 
officiating  clergyman  at  the  altar.  From  the 
church  the  party  went  into  an  ante-room,  where 
was  a  spread  of  cake,  wine,  cigars  and  cigarettes. 
Gov.  W.  giving  Mr.  C.  a  significant  wink, 
approaching  Lola  kissed  her,  and  C,  to  "  make 
the  occasion  memorable,"  as  he  said,  did  the 
same.  Lola  made  no  objection,  remarking  usuch 
is  the  custom  of  my  country."  She  received  the 
congratulations  of  all  who  were  present  and  had 
a  pleasant  word  for  all ;  she  then  inquired, 
"where  can  we  get  a  good  breakfast?"  Hull 
replied,  "  at  the  Bull's  Head;"  Lola  said  "  she 
had  rather  go  to  the  Tivoli ; "  and  to  the  "  Tivoli " 
they  went. 

This  strange  marriage  was  but  one  of  the 
episodes  in  the  strange  life  of  the  Countess 
of  Landsfeldt,  Baroness  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Theresa,  and  discarded  wife  of  a  king,  whose  life- 
dream  flickered  out  in  obscurity,  and  who  now 
lies  in  Trinity  church  yard  in  an  humble  grave, 


254  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

above  wliicli  is  the  inscription,  "  Elizabeth  Gil- 
bert, died  in  New  York,  aged  forty-one  years." 

The  little  rose-embowered  cottage  in  which 
Lola  lived  with  Pat  Hull  for  a  short  time  after 
her  marriage,  stood  for  some  period,  perhaps  still 
stands,  in  the  pretty  town  of  Grass  Valley  in 
Nevada  County,  California. 

I  mink  that  my  next  "memory"  of  the  early 
California  days  is  connected  with  Venua's  thea- 
tre in  Sacramento.  Mr.  Edwin  Booth  was  a 
member  of  the  company,  and  in  one  of  the  bills 
I  find  his  name  as  "  Jack  Spriggs,"  in  the  comedy 
of  "  Look  before  you  Leap ;  "  and  in  "  Twelfth 
Night "  his  name  for  "  Malvolio,"  and  my  own 
for  "Sir  Toby  Belsh."  I  recall  the  admirable 
manner  in  which  he  played  "  Malvolio."  He  also 
played  "  Mr.  Lionel  Lynx  "  in  "  Married  Life  " 
and  "  Bucket "  the  Detective,  in  "  Bleak  House." 
The  Misses  Adelaide  and  Joey  Gougenheim  were 
the  stars ;  these  two  ladies  had  a  large  popularity 
for  a  short  time  in  California,  Joey,  especially, 
and  went  subsequently  to  Australia.  On  their 
return  trip  from  the  Antipodes  a  suit  at  law  was 
commenced  to  recover  damages  from  the  captain 
of  the  vessel  in  which  they  were  passengers,  for 
an  alleged  violation  of  contract.  One  of  the 
specifications  was  that  he  had  not,  as  agreed,  fur- 
nished any  sugar  for  their  limes.  It  was  a  funny 
case,  and  the  minstrels  popularized  a  doggerel 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  255 

song,  which  the  street  gamins  sung  all  over  town, 
of  u  No  Sugar  on  your  Limes." 

On  Monday  evening,  October  8th,  1855,  the 
new  "  Edwin  Forrest "  Theatre  in  Sacramento, 
was  opened  under  the  management  of  Charles  A. 
King  and  George  Ryer.  Mr.  Ryer  came  to 
California  in  1853,  and  was  a  member  of  Mrs. 
Sinclair's  first  company,  at  the  "  Metropolitan," 
in  San  Francisco.  He  dabbled  in  management  a 
good  deal  during  his  sojourn  on  the  Pacific  Coast, 
was  a  very  easy  going  kind  of  a  man,  never  in  a 
hurry,  and  never  in  a  worry,  and  somewhat  in- 
different to  other  peoples  convenience,  of  which 
I  remember  an  instance.  A  belated  actor,  when 
preparing  in  a  hurry  for  the  duties  of  the  even- 
ing, found  missing  at  the  last  moment,  a  very 
necessary  portion  of  his  costume,  his  nether 
garments,  or  "tights"  as  they  are  called;  they 
were  nowhere  to  be  found,  and  110  one  in  the 
dressing-room  had  seen  or  knew  anything  about 
them.  The  difficulty  was  surmounted  by  a 
kindly  loan  from  a  brother  actor,  and  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  play,  while  the  actors  were  dis- 
robing, Mr.  Ryer  with  a  chuckle,  drew  from  be- 
neath his  doublet  the  missing  "  tights,"  which  he 
had  rolled  up  into  a  ball  and  crammed  beneath 
his  dress  to  produce  the  proper  obesity  of  the 
character  he  represented.  Mr.  Ryer  left  Cali- 
fornia many  years  ago,  and  I  believe  became  an 


256  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

army  chaplain  during  the  war  of  the  rebellion. 
I  think  that  such  a  position  would  have  suited 
him  exactly.  Mr.  King,  or  Charley  King  as  he 
was  always  called,  was  a  pleasant,  genial  gentle- 
man, and  a  fair  actor  in  the  line  of  eccentric  and 
low-comedy.  Like  nearly  all  of  the  early  Cali- 
fornia thespians  he  passed  away,  and  his  modest 
monument  may  be  seen  in  the  Sacramento 
cemetery. 

John  Dunn,  another  merry  "  memory."  Surely 
there  are  many  on  either  side  of  the  continent 
who  remember  that  "  Rascal  Jack  ;"  what  a  buoy- 
ant spirit,  what  a  careless,  reckless,  laughing  soul. 
At  home,  everywhere,  he  had,  as  he  boasted, 
hob-nobbed  with  and  slapped  on  the  back  the 
King  of  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  I  think  if  the 
opportunity  offered  he  would  have  done  the  same 
to  the  Czar  of  Russia  or  the  Pope  of  Rome.  He, 
too,  is  long  since  dead. 

And  yet  another  memory  of  one  who  was  with 
me  at  that  time — a  gentle  woman,  a  loving  wife, 
a  noble  mother ;  and  to  these  higher  titles  may 
truthfully  be  added  that  of  an  admirable  actress 
—Sophie  Edwin.  She  was  pre-eminently  a  pio- 
neer of  the  California  stage,  having  made  her 
first  appearance  at  the  old  "  American  Theatre," 
in  San  Francisco,  in  1850,  and  had  played  u  Al- 
bert," in  "  William  Tell,"  in  the  u  Tehama  The- 
atre," in  Sacramento.  Again,  in  1851,  she  had 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  257 

played  at  the  first  "Jenny  Lind  Theatre."  She 
was  married  to  Mr.  W.  Stevenson  in  1854.  For 
the  period  of  twenty  years,  I  knew  Sophie  Ed- 
win ;  commencing  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  she 
rose  by  her  own  merit  to  a  high  rank,  and  was 
deservedly  popular  with  every  community  before 
whom  she  appeared.  Miss  Edwin  was  born  in 
Sydney,  Australia,  and  was  thirty-eight  years 
old  at  the  time  of  her  death,  which  occurred  in 
San  Francisco  in  1877.  As  an  emotional  actress, 
she  was  not  far  behind  the  foremost  of  her  pro- 
fession, and  there  was  a  sympathy  in  her  voice 
that  touched  a  sympathetic  chord  in  the  heart  of 
every  listener.  With  a  proverbial  industry  in 
her  calling,  she  yet  found  time  to  rear  a  family 
of  children,  with  tender  care  and  solicitude  for 
their  moral  and  educational  welfare.  Her  hus- 
band, Mr.  Stevenson,  survived  her  some  five 
years,  and  died  respected  by  the  community  with 
whom  he  had  lived  so  long. 

Mr.  Woodard — John  Woodard — was  still  an- 
other of  the  early  ones  whom  I  then  met  for  the 
first  time.  He  had  walked  the  trails,  and  acted 
in  every  mining  camp  and  cloth-and-paper  town 
of  every  county  in  the  State,  and  later  was  man- 
ager and  popular  vocalist  of  several  minor  thea- 
tres in  the  Bay  City.  He  had  much  comic  abil- 
ity, and  was  a  gentleman  of  probity  and  honor. 
The  old  miners  who  still  linger  in  the  deserted 


258  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

placers  of  the  State,  will  tell  with  rapture  how 
John  Woodard  used  to  sing  in  the  early  times, 

"  The  days  of  old,  the  days  of  gold,  the  days  of  forty-nine." 

§ 

He  has  been  long  absent  from  California. 

Mr.  Frank  Mayo  was  a  beginner  in  that  Sac- 
ramento corps  of  1855.  He  has  since  achieved 
name  and  fame  in  "  Davy  Crockett,"  and  other 
popular  characters. 

Caroline  Chapman,  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken,  was  member  of  the  company.  Lacking 
feminine  beauty,  this  lady  was  beautiful  in  soul 
and  brilliant  in  talent. 

Another  "  memory" — a  gigantic  one — McKean 
Buchanan.  I  had  known  him  in  New  Orleans, 
where  he  was  a  levee  cotton  broker  at  the  time 
he  startled  the  South  with  his  advent.  This 
gentleman's  managerial  and  professional  career 
is  so  well  known,  that  I  can  hope  to  add  but  little 
to  the  record.  He  played  with  us  at  this  time 
an  engagement  of  six  nights'  duration.  The 
"Naiad  Queen"  was  produced  with  some  eclat; 
and  at  the  close  of  the  season  a  young  girl, 
though  an  old  California!!,  of  whom  I  shall  have 
more  to  say,  appeared — Miss  Sue  Robinson — the 
Fairy  Star ! 

I  think  that  pleasant  sojourn  in  the  City  of 
the  Plains  lasted  three  months,  and  at  its  close 
John  S.  Potter,  the  ubiquitous,  who  had  been  on 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  259 

the  watch,  threw  his  net  and  caught  me  for  the 
Nevada  Theatre,  where  on  Thursday,  February 
1 4th,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet"  was  announced  for 
representation;  "Romeo" — Mile.  Marie  Duret ; 
"Mercutio"— Mr.  Leman;  "Juliet"— Miss  Sophie 
Edwin. 

Madame  Duret  is  a  marked  "  memory"  of  the 
early  California  days ;  when  younger  she  had 
played  in  New  Orleans  and  some  other  southern 
cities,  and  had  eventually  strayed  to  the  Aus- 
tralian Colonies,  where,  according  to  rumor 
(whether  true  or  false  I  know  not)  she  had  be- 
come the  wife  of  Mr.  Gustavus  V.  Brooke.  She 
was  a  capable  actress,  possessing  some  emotional 
power,  and  played  some  of  the  parts  that  Madam 
Celeste  had  made  famous,  with  success ;  later 
she  turned  her  whole  attention  to  elaboration  of 
the  character  of  Ainsworth's  Newgate  Calender 
hero,  and  was  known  far  and  wide  as  "  the  only 
Jack  Sheppard."  She  was  a  pleasant  and  intel- 
ligent lady,  but  was  overtaken  by  misfortune  in 
her  advanced  years,  and  died  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances in  San  Francisco  in  1883. 

McKean  Buchanan  had  organized  a  small 
company  of  what  his  bills  called  the  "  finest  art- 
ists on  the  Pacific  Coast,"  and  we  started  from 
Sacramento  for  Folsom  on  the  i3th  day  of  May, 
1856,  to  enlighten  the  central  mining  regions  of 
the  State  with  illustrations  of  the  drama,  as  it 


260  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

had  never  been  seen  before,  and  as  the  bills  de- 
clared, "  would  never  be  seen  again." 

Mr.  H.  D.  Palmer— the  Harry  Palmer  of 
<(  Black  Crook "  fame,  who  subsequently,  in 
partnership  with  Henry  C.  Jarrett,  made  a  for- 
tune by  that  spectacle — was  Mr.  Buchanan's 
advance  agent,  or  rather  avant  courier,  com- 
bining the  position  of  agent  with  bill-sticker, 
and  went  ahead  with  a  light  buggy  and  paste-pot 
to  "  bill"  the  camps.  We  had  a  four-horse  team 
and  carriage  with  capacity  for  ten  passengers, 
were  out  six  weeks,  and  played  in  some  forty 
different  towns  and  mining  camps,  traveling 
about  seven  hundred  miles. 

Mr.  Buchanan,  like  Mr.  Potter,  was  a  man  of 
boundless  resources,  but,  unlike  Mr.  Potter,  was 
rarely  impecunious  ;  for  if  business  was  bad  and 
the  box-office  returns  meagre,  he  never  would 
have  told  a  member  of  his  company  who  asked 
for  salary  that  "  blackberries  were  ripe,"  but,  like 
an  honest  man,  would  have  gone  out  after  play- 
ing "  Hamlet "  and  won  enough  at  poker  to 
square  the  salary  bill  the  next  morning. 

We  had  some  very  funny  scenes  during  that 
trip ;  I  wish  I  could  remember  them.  Among 
the  euphonious  names  of  the  places  in  which 
"  the  drama  as  it  had  never  been  seen  before" 
was  exhibited,  I  recall  the  following  :  "  Tod's  Val- 
ley," "  Yankee  Jim's,"  "  Chips'  Flat,"  "  Cherokee 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  261 

Flat,"  "  Smith's  Flat,"  "Woolsey's  Flat,"  "  Rough 
and  Ready,"  "Rattlesnake,"  "  Mud  Springs," 
"  Indian  Diggings,"  "  Red  Dog,"  "  Hangtown," 
"  Dry  town,"  and  "  Fiddletown."  In  going  from 
"Smith's  Flat"  to  "Woolsey's  Flat,"  we  had  to 
climb  the  divide  between  two  forks  of  the  Amer- 
ican River  (I  think  it  was),  and  the  road  being 
very  precipitous,  a  team  and  span  of  mules  were 
sent  out  ahead  with  the  baggage;  when  they 
reached  the  summit,  startled  at  something  or 
other,  they  went  off  down  the  mountain  in  a  "go 
as  you  please"  style,  scattering  the  baggage  and 
wardrobe  on  the  grease  wood  and  manzanita 
bushes  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  a  mile  and  a 
half  of  distance,  with  perfect  impartiality  ;  Miss 
Vaux's  skirts  were  dangling  from  one  bush,  Jim- 
my Griffith's  russet  boots  and  doublet  in  one 
place,  my  scarfs  and  other  articles  of  stage  attire 
in  another,  while  Buck's  trunk,  being  the  largest 
and  heaviest,  had  burst  and  scattered  all  his  regal 
finery  in  the  dust  of  the  road,  from  the  top  of  the 
hill  to  the  bottom. 

Any  other  man  than  Buchanan  would  have 
abandoned  the  idea  of  playing  that  night,  for  it 
was  dark  before  we  reached  the  hotel ;  but  he 
was  a  man  that  never  lost  a  night,  "rain  or 
shine,"  and  he  sent  men  back  on  the  road  to 
gather  up  what  they  could,  got  the  curtain  up— 
the  curtain  in  that  particular  "temple  of  the 


262  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

drama,"  I  remember,  was  composed  of  four  blue 
blankets  basted  together — made  a  speech  to  the 
audience,  which  was  a  good  one,  and  all  the  bet- 
ter for  the  mishap  which  had  befallen  us,  and 
after  the  performance  won  enough  at  poker  to 
repair  damages. 

The  old  hall  in  Placerville — better  known  as 
"Hangtown"  by  the  early  Californians — had  a 
supporting  joist  sustaining  the  roof,  just  in  the 
front  centre  of  the  stage.  When  the  room  had 
been  altered  for  theatrical  uses,  I  presume  it  had 
been  found  impossible  to  remove  this  square  pil- 
lar without  endangering  the  safety  of  the  roof. 
It  was  a  very  awkward  obstruction  for  the  play- 
ers, for  we  had  to  act  round  it,  and  it  was  a  great 
eye-sore  to  the  audience.  With  rare  genius, 
Buchanan  on  one  occasion  utilized  that  ugly 
pillar,  in  the  last  scene  of  the  "  Merchant  of 
Venice,"  when  as  "Shylock"  he  exclaimed: 

"  Nay,  take  my  life  and  all. 

You  take  my  house,  when  you  do  take  the  prop 
That  doth  sustain  my  house. ' ' 

He  rushed  to  the  centre,  and  grabbing  the  ugly 
post,  delivered  the  lines  with  an  energy  all  his 
own. 

Jimmy  Griffiths  is  another  merry  " memory" 
of  the  early  days.  "  Little  Jimmy,"  as  he  was 
always  called,  was  dwarfish  in  stature,  and  looked 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  263 

as  old  when  I  first  knew  him  in  Sacramento  as 
he  did  five  and  twenty  years  after.  In  fact,  he 
always  looked  old,  and  always  looked  just  the 
same.  He  was  shrewd,  quick,  good-natured  and 
high -tempered.  He  was  property-man,  scene- 
shifter,  wardrobe -keeper,  played  three  or  four 
parts,  and  beat  the  big  drum  when  we  entered 
the  mining-camps,  except  when,  upon  particular 
occasions,  old  "  Buck "  beat  it  himself.  The 
wagon  was  a  large  one,  and  the  drum  was  placed 
"  way  astern,"  as  a  sailor  would  say;  and  on  cer- 
tain occasions  Buchanan  would  take  Jimmy's 
place,  and  thump  the  drum  all  the  way  to  the 
hotel.  I  used  to  expostulate  with  him  for  this 
tmnecessary  lowering  of  his  dignity;  but  his 
answer  would  be,  "  Leman,  my  dear  boy,  you 
don't  see  the  thing  clear.  It  makes  capital. 
They  say  I'm  eccentric ;  and  when  the  miners 
see  me  beating  the  drum  they  '11  say,  '  See, 
there's  Buchanan,  the  great  tragedian,  beating 
the  drum  ;  how  odd  !  It  shows  that,  great  actor 
as  he  is,  he  can  descend  from  his  pedestal.  Let's 
all  go  and  see  him  to-night." 

I  have  said  Jimmy  was  high-tempered.  Bu- 
chanan was  a  great  swaggerer  at  times,  and  once 
he  pushed  the  little  fellow  to  the  danger-point. 
Some  over-work  had  been  crowded  upon  him,  and 
some  unjust  rebuke  had  been  followed  by  indi- 
cations of  a  blow  on  Buchanan's  part,  when 


264  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Griffiths  dashed  to  the  stage  the  china  vase  he 
held  in  his  hands,  and  seizing  an  old  rusty  sabre, 
turned,  with  fury,  on  his  manager,  who  knew,  by 
the  blood  in  Jimmy's  eye,  that  he  meant  busi- 
ness, and  incontinently  fled.  He  dodged  around 
the  wings,  half  laughing  and  half  afraid,  with 
Jimmy  after  him  for  a  few  moments,  until  his 
anger  cooled.  The  scene  was  supremely  ridicu- 
lous to  the  lookers-on. 

At  another  time,  Jimmy's  promptitude  saved 
us  all  from  a  catastrophe.  We  had  wandered 
away  up  to  Forrest  Hill,  in  Sierra  County,  I 
think,  and  were  playing  in  the  upper  story  of  a 
great  wooden  shell  of  a  hotel.  The  hall,  lined 
with  cotton  cloth,  papered,  was  brimful  of  people, 
and  the  only  entrance  and  exit  was  by  a  narrow, 
winding  stairway,  which  led  from  the  bar.  Large 
kerosene  lamps  lighted  the  room  and  stage.  In 
raising  the  curtain  some  obstruction  occurred, 
and  Buchanan,  always  hasty  and  impatient, 
seizing  hold  of  the  line,  and  disregarding  Jim- 
my's request  to  wait  until  he  could  clear  it, 
jerked  it  violently,  and  in  so  doing  detached  one 
of  the  flaming  kerosene  lamps,  which  fell  upon 
the  stage.  The  audience  rose  aghast,  and  Bu- 
chanan stood  paralized;  but  Griffiths,  with  great 
presence  of  mind,,  seized  and  extinguished  it  be- 
fore mischief  ensued.  Those  who  know  the  peril 
of  conflagration  that  always  environed  the  dwell- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  265 

ers  in  the  cloth  and  paper  houses  of  the  Cali- 
fornia mining-towns  can  appreciate  the  calamity 
that  might  have  ensued  if  a  fire  had  started  in 
the  third  story  of  that  flimsy  structure,  with  one 
narrow  and  rickety  stairway  as  means  of  escape 
for  two  hundred  human  beings. 

I  had  some  further  professional  intercourse 
with  Mr.  Buchanan,  of  which  more  anon.  He 
was  most  certainly  a  man  of  peculiar  tempera- 
ment ;  but  with  a  deal  of  vanity  and  egotism, 
and  a  disposition  at  times  to  be  overbearing,  he 
nevertheless  had  true  and  noble  characteristics. 
I  always  found  in  him  inflexible  integrity  and 
honesty.  I  think  his  judgment  was  faulty,  for 
most  certainly  he  thought  himself  a  great  actor; 
but  he  is,  by  no  means,  the  only  actor  whose  judg- 
ment is  misled  by  his  self-esteem.  If  he  could 
have  curbed  his  dramatic  Pegasus  within  reason- 
able bounds,  he  would  have  appeared  better  upon 
the  stage ;  but  his  steed  always  ran  away  with 
him.  He  would  play  some  parts  of  a  character, 
as  "Richelieu"  for  example,  admirably;  but  when 
he  got  to  the  "anathema"  scene,  in  the  fourth 
act,  Pegasus  would  get  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  and 
"Richelieu"  would  shout  himself  hoarse,  foam 
at  the  mouth,  and  sweep  the  circle  of  the  stage 
in  what  Walter  Bray  once  very  appropriately 
called  a  "walk  around."  One  part  he  played 


266  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

excellently  well,  as  all  who  have  seen  his  uSir 
Harcourt  Courtly"  can  certify. 

Mr.  Buchanan  left  California  many  years  ago, 
and  for  some  time  after  had  a  traveling  company 
in  the  Eastern  States.  He  had  learned  by  ex- 
perience how  to  economize,  and  avowed  his  deter- 
mination to  engage  no  more  leading  actresses  for 
a  salary,  as  there  were  always  plenty  of  "ambi- 
tious novices,"  who  could  be  obtained  for  nothing. 
I  don't  think  his  system  made  him  rich.  Perhaps 
it  might  if  he  had  lived  longer ;  but  he  died  poor. 
Peace  to  his  ashes ! 

Mr.  Buchanan  had  a  very  beautiful  daughter — 
Miss  Virginia  Buchanan — who  became  an  actress, 
and,  I  think,  is  yet  living. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Nicaragua  Route — Walker — Baltimore  Museum  —  Miss 
Annette  Ince — Stuart  Robson — Charles  Barton  Hill — Mr. 
and  Miss  Charles  —  George  E.  Locke  —  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Florence — The  Ravels — Mrs.  Sydney  L.  Bateman — Return 
to  California — Mr.  J.  B.  Booth,  Jr. — Miss  Julia  Dean  Hayne 
— Miss  Louisa  Paullin — Travel  in  the  Mountains — Hang- 
town — Downieville — The  Drama  under  Difficulties — Mr. 
Edwin  Booth's  California  Career — Interior  Theatricals — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Wallack,  Jr. — Washington — Miss 
Albertine— Mrs.  John  Wood — Miss  Avonia  Jones  — ' '  The 
Seven  Sons" — Col.  E.  D.  Baker — Mrs.  Woodward — Mrs. 
Agnes  Booth — The  Mandeville  Sisters — Buchanan — Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Pope — Mr.  Forbes — Family  Jars — King 
Caucus. 

ON  the  fifth  day  of  August,  1856,  I  embarked 
on  board  the  steamer  Sierra  Nevada,  for 
San  Juan  on  the  Pacific,  en  route  to  New  York. 
There  were  on  board  some  forty  recruits  for 
Walker,  who  was  then  at  the  height  of  his 
ephemeral  power  in  Central  America.  Among 
them  was  the  son  of  an  old  friend,  a  rash  impul- 
sive, generous  boy,  who  within  six  months  died 


268  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

far  away  in  a  strange  land,  whether  in  battle  or 
by  disease,  or  treachery,  his  mother  or  his  sister 
never  knew.  This  young  man  during  the  pas-, 
sage,  had  a  difficulty  with  the  captain  of  the 
corps,  resulting  in  a  challenge,  which  was  ac- 
cepted by  the  captain,  and  a  duel  with  sabres  was 
arranged  to  come  off  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer 
at  the  hour  of  ten  at  night.  The  commander  of 
the  steamer  put  a  summary  stop  to  all  further 
proceedings  in  the  little  "  affair  of  honor,"  as 
soon  as  the  intelligence  of  their  intended  meeting 
reached  his  ears.  On  reaching  San  Juan,  the 
"  custom's  officials"  of  Walker's  new-born  nation 
came  off  to  the  ship  with  the  flag  of  the  Repub- 
lic at  the  stern  of  their  gig,  and  on  landing,  the 
squads  of  soldiers  met  at  intervals ;  and  the  knots 
of  natives,  male  and  female,  who,  with  furtive 
and  lowering  looks,  gazed  at  the  strangers,  told 
of  the  short-lived  power  of  the  so-called  "  gray- 
eyed  man  of  destiny,"  which  was  so  soon  to  pass 
away  in  blood.  No  event  of  moment  occurred 
during  the  safe  and  pleasant  passage  home. 

Mr.  George  Ince  had  become  the  lessee  of  the 
"  Baltimore  Museum,"  and  on  the  evening  of 
Monday,  September  29,  1856,  that  establishment 
opened  with  the  name  of  Walter  M.  I/eman  on 
the  bills  as  stage  manager.  The  play  was 
"Ingomar,"  the  part  of  "Parthenia"  by  Miss 
Annette  Ince.  This  lady  was  the  manager's 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  269 

daughter,  and  had  for  some  time  held  position  as 
an  attractive  star.  There  was  then,  and  at  a 
later  period,  a  sort  of  implied  rivalry  between 
Miss  Ince  and  Miss  Jnlia  Dean.  Both  young, 
both  beautiful  and  both  highly  talented,  adher- 
ents were  not  wanting  to  maintain  the  claims  of 
either  to  pre-eminence.  Miss  Ince  was  especially 
happy  in  her  representation  of  "  Ion,"  a  part 
which  Miss  Dean  never  played ;  and  in  very 
many  characters  it  would  have  been  difficult  for 
the  most  impartial  critic  to  decide  the  palm.  Sub- 
sequently Miss  Ince  came  to  California,  where 
she  now  resides,  and,  as  always,  is  numbered  in 
my  list  of  old  friends. 

Miss  Ince's  sister,  Caroline,  a  pretty  girl, 
danced  between  play  and  farce.  She,  too,  is  now 
a  Californian. 

vStuart  Robson  !  Thou  strange,  eccentric,  odd, 
unlike-anybody-else  actor !  Come  into  Court.  It 
was  at  this  time  I  first  knew  Mr.  Robson.  On 
the  opening  night  he  played  "  Selim  Pettibone  " 
in  a  "  Kiss  in  the  Dark ;  "  he  was  a  very  young 
man  then,  and  I  certainly  thought  I  had  for  my 
low-comedian  the  thinnest,  queerest,  squeakiest 
little  man  that  I  had  ever  seen.  He  made  every- 
body laugh  who  saw  him,  and  has  kept  them 
laughing  ever  since.  I  don't  know  whether 
Stuart  Robson  was  in  love  before  the  Museum 
opened,  but  I  know  that  he  got  married  during 


270  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

that  short  season,  and  I  know  he'll  not  be 
offended  at  my  mention  of  what  has  since  been 
a  subject  for  our  mutual  mirth,  his  impecunious- 
ness  at  the  time  which  compelled  him  to  ask  a 
loan  from  the  stage  manager  to  "see  "  the  priest. 
Mr.  Robson  is  numbered  among  my  old  friends. 

Mr.  Charles  Barton  Hill  I  also  knew  for  the 
first  time.  Barton  Hill,  as  he  is  more  commonly 
called,  is  the  son  of  the  gentleman  whom  I  have 
spoken  of  as  manager  at  Louisville.  Mr.  Hill 
went  subsequently  to  California,  and  was  stage 
manager  of  the  "  California  Theatre  "  during 
the  last  years  of  the  lesseeship  of  Mr.  McCul- 
lough.  Mr.  Hill  is  an  actor  of  varied  powers, 
and  is,  I  think,  still  living. 

Mr.  John  E.  Owens  was  around — he  always 
contrived  to  be  around  Baltimore  during  the  gala, 
agricultural  time,  for  he  shrewdly  knew  that  then 
the  theatrical  harvest  was  ripe — and  played  for 
two  weeks.  Mr.  F.  Bangs  joined  the  company. 
This  gentleman  subsequently  attained  eminence 
as  a  tragic  actor. 

Mr.  and  Miss  Charles  appeared  and  played  a 
long  engagement.  On  referring  to  the  bills,  I 
find  that  I  announced  them  as  the  "  only  rivals 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barney  Williams."  I  dare  say 
they  might  have  been,  but  I  honestly  confess 
that  I  do  not  retain  any  remembrance  of  what 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Williams,  or  Mr.  and  Miss  Charles 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  271 

ever  did  upon  the  stage.  Some  things  are 
stamped  on  our  memory,  others  are  submerged 
in  forgetfulness. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.  E.  Locke  also  played  with  us. 
Mr.  Locke  was  the  gentleman  who,  years  before, 
had  such  unutterable  feelings  on  witnessing  the 
rehearsal  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  He  had  now 
bloomed  into  a  "  Yankee  comedian."  His  wife 
was  a  quiet  little  body.  They  afterwards  went 
to  California.  Both,  I  believe,  are  dead. 

The  short  season  at  Baltimore  closed  on  the 
sixth  of  December,  and  I  was  immediately  en- 
gaged as  stage  manager  at  the  "  National  Thea- 
tre," in  the  city  of  Washington,  D.  C.,  where  I 
first  became  professionally  acquainted  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence,  whom  all  the  theatrical 
world  knows.  This  lady  and  gentleman  are  still 
before  the  public.  They  cross  and  re-cross  the 
Atlantic  very  often — Mr.  Florence  to  get  some- 
thing new  in  the  drama,  Mrs.  Florence  some- 
thing new  in  the  fashions,  and  I  believe  they  al- 
ways succeed,  for  Mr.  Florence  is  always  present- 
ing some  new  novelty  to  the  public,  and  his  lady 
is  noted  as  the  richest  and  tastiest  dresser  on  the 
stage. 

Mr.  S.  W.  Glenn  was  another  acquaintance. 
He  was  a  capital  actor  in  Dutch  characters. 

Thalberg,  the  famous  pianist,  was  with  us  one 
night,  and  the  Ravels  played  a  very  successful 


272  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

engagement.  Gabriel,  though  getting  old,  was 
still  king  of  pantomime ;  and  there  was  a  bril- 
liant dancer,  a  Russian  lady  named  Yrea  Mat- 
thias, not  far  behind  Augusta  or  Blangy. 

But  what  I  best  remember  during  that  short 
Washington  season,  was  the  production  of  Mrs. 
Sidney  F.  Bateman's  comedy  of  "  Self."  It  had 
been  fairly  successful  in  other  cities  ;  Mr.  Owens 
and  Mrs.  Melinda  Jones  were  in  the  cast,  but  it 
failed  to  draw.  I  think  that  it  was  an  angry 
controversy  about  Mrs.  Bateman's  claims  to  the 
authorship  of  this  play  that  provoked  a  street 
fight  in  the  city  of  San  Francisco. 

The  season  at  Washington  was  brought  to  an 
abrupt  close  in  the  first  week  of  February.  The 
great,  barn-like  structure,  called  the  "  National 
Theatre,"  caught  fire  in  mid-day  and  was  wholly 
consumed. 

In  April  I  again  embarked  for  California, 
reaching  San  Francisco  on  the  i5th  of  May,  and 
greeting  my  Sacramento  friends,  in  company 
with  Miss  Ince,  who  had  preceded  me,  in 
Knowles'  play  of  the  "  Hunchback,"  on  the  eve- 
ning of  May  25th.  The  "  Clifford  "  of  the  cast 
was  Mr.  J.  B.  Booth,  Jr.  This  gentleman,  re- 
cently deceased,  was  so  well  known  to  the  public, 
and  so  highly  esteemed,  both  as  manager  and 
actor,  that  I  can  hardly  hope  to  add  aught  of  in- 
terest regarding  him.  I  had  known  him  when  a 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  273 

mere  lad,  in  Boston,  where,  I  think,  he  first  ap- 
peared in  the  old  u  National  Theatre."  He  came 
to  California  as  early  as  1852,  I  believe,  and  had 
been  in  management  prior  to  my  arrival.  His 
first  wife  was  Miss  De  Barr  and  he  was  subse- 
quently married  to  a  Boston  lady — Miss  Harriet 
Mace — whom  I  had  known  in  my  early  theatrical 
days.  I  believe  that  he  was  the  eldest  son  of  his 
great  sire  and  although  a  good  actor,  inherited 
none  of  the  genius  of  the  father.  Perhaps  I 
should  modify  that  statement,  for  there  were 
times  when,  for  a  moment,  there  would  appear  a 
flash  of  the  Booth,  but  it  would  be  a  momentary 
flash  only.  In  one  scene  of  "  King  John  "  espe- 
cially this  was  evinced,  and  occasionally  in  other 
characters ;  but  it  was  a  very  fitful  fire,  and  died 
almost  as  soon  as  kindled.  In  physique,  Mr. 
Booth  was  a  model  of  manly  beauty ;  very  fond 
of  athletic  exercises,  an  admirable  fencer,  and 
sparred  with  skill  and  power ;  and  in  addition  to 
all  this,  he  was  of  a  genial,  pleasant  tempera- 
ment, a  plain-spoken,  upright  man.  Years  later, 
I  acted  under  his  management,  and  as  manager, 
actor,  and  friend,  I  respect  his  memory.  Mr. 
Booth's  third  wife  was  Mrs.  Agnes  Perry,  who 
survives  him.  Of  this  lady  I  shall  have  occasion 
to  speak. 

In  June,  Mrs.  Julia  Dean  Hayne  leased  the 
American  Theatre  in  San  Francisco,  and  I  was 


274  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

again  among  old  friends.  I  recall  with  especial 
pleasure  that  pleasant  summer  and  fall,  but  I  re- 
member no  new  names  among  my  associates  of 
that  time,  if  I  except  Mr.  George  Waldron,  who 
rose  to  favor  subsequently ;  Mr.  Frank  Lawlor, 
who  afterwards  became  known  as  actor  and  mana- 
ger, and  is,  I  think,  still  living,  and  a  little  girl, 
Miss  Louisa  Paulina,  who  is  now  a  popular  vocal- 
ist, well  known  in  musical  circles,  and  a  member 
of  the  "  Mikado  Troupe."  The  soubrette  of  the 
company  was  Mrs.  Leonard,  a  little  native 
Australian  nugget,  petite,  piquante  and  pleasing. 
On  closing  in  San  Francisco,  we  started  on  a  tour 
lasting  for  nearly  three  months,  embracing  all  of 
the  central  mining  region,  and  combining  with 
the  dust  and  discomfort  of  California  mountain 
travel,  pleasurable  sights  and  scenes  of  novelty 
and  interest  that  none  but  those  who  have  roamed 
the  mountains  of  California  can  ever  know. 
Many  a  time  and  oft,  a  party  of  us  would  antici- 
pate the  coach  departure,  and  tramp  it  over  hill 
and  through  valley  in  the  balmy  morning  air,  or 
leave  the  carriage  and  take  a  cut-off  trail  beneath 
the  shadow  of  mountain  pines  redolent  with  spicy 
odors,  gaining  perhaps  a  half  hour's  time,  which 
would  be  spent  upon  the  grass  in  company  with 
a  cigar,  while  we  waited  for  the  coach  to  come  up. 
In  the  solemn  silence  of  those  forest  hills,  no 
sound  would  be  heard  save  the  woodpecker  and 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  275 

the  soughing  of  the  wind  amid  the  branches  of 
the  tall  tree  tops — till  anon,  a  subdued  rattle  of 
wheels  slowly  coming  up  the  grade  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  driver  coming  in  sight  would  crack 
his  whip,  the  ladies  in  the  coach  wave  their  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  on  reaching  the  summit  the  horses 
rest  and  take  a  drink,  and  reseating  ourselves  in 
the  coach  we  would  roll  merrily  on. 

The  tour  commenced  at  Placerville,  where  a 
new  and  pretty  theatre  had  been  built  (without 
any  post  in  the  middle  of  the  stage) ,  and  the  new 
"  Gary  House  "  just  opened.  Placerville  in  the 
early  days,  was  one  of  the  liveliest  towns  in 
California,  the  center  of  a  very  rich  "  placer " 
mining  region  (hence  its  name,  though  it  rejoiced 
in  another).  I  remember  that  our  arrival  from 
Sacramento  was  at  too  late  an  hour  for  perform- 
ing on  that  evening,  and  we  had  a  lively  game  of 
"  hunt  the  slipper"  on  the  parlor  floor,  Doctor 
and  Mrs.  Hayne  being  the  leaders  of  the  fun. 
We  played  in  Placerville  ten  nights,  which  was 
a  long  time  for  "  Hangtown,"  but  the  lady  was  a 
prime  favorite  everywhere  in  California.  That 
uncanny  name  of  Hangtown  was  applied  to 
Placerville  by  the  old  forty-niners,  to  commemo- 
rate a  notable  execution  under  the  code  of  Judge 
Lynch,  in  1850.  The  large  tree  which  bore  such 
ghastly  fruit,  stood,  perhaps  now  .stands,  in  the 
main  street  of  the  town.  With  the  exhaustion 


276  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  placer  mining,  and  the  increase  of  agriculture, 
Placerville  became  one  of  the  most  charming  in- 
land towns  of  the  State.  I  have  not,  however, 
seen  it  in  many  years. 

We  got  as  far  up  in  the  mountain  region  of 
Sierra  County  as  Downieville,  which  in  those 
days  was  the  "  ultima  thule  "  of  actors.  On  my 
first  visit  to  this  place  with  Buchanan,  we  had  to 
leave  our  concord  wagon,  and  go  down  into  town 
in  the  saddle,  for  no  wheeled  carriage  could 
descend  the  grade.  Downieville  was  another 
lively  place  in  the  early  days,  its  glory  was,  how- 
ever beginning  to  fade,  and  I  suppose  after  the 
lapse  of  all  the  intervening  years,  that  it  is  now, 
like  many  of  the  old  camps,  where  it  was  thought 
very  dull  indeed  if  they  didn't  have  every  morn- 
ing a  "  man  for  breakfast,"  another  "  sleepy 
hollow."  We  got  into  one  camp  away  up  among 
the  hills — I  forget  the  name — where  the  hall,  in 
the  upper  story  of  a  cloth-and-paper  house,  hav- 
ing no  stage,  we  had  to  improvise  one  out  of  the 
two  billiard  tables  it  contained,  .covering  them 
with  boards  for  that  purpose ;  there  being  no 
room  for  exit  or  entrance,  excepting  by  a  narrow 
door  on  one  side,  and  two  narrow  windows  lead- 
ing to  the  roof  of  a  shed  on  the  other,  an  heroic 
exit  or  entrance  was  out  of  the  question,  and  in 
getting  before  the  audience  "  Master  Walter  "  had 
to  push  "Julia"  up  through  the  window,  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  277 

frame  being  taken  out,  and  in  getting  off  let  her 
down  in  advance  ;  the  spectators  seemed  to  enjoy 
the  thing  as  much  as  the  players,  and  there  was 
a  deal  of  fun  if  not  of  tragic  fitness.  In  my  pre- 
vious tour  with  Buchanan  through  the  mining 
regions,  more  than  once  he  knocked  "  Bos  worth 
Field  "  all  to  pieces  in  his  frantic  tragedy  of  the 
fifth  act  of  Richard  III,  for  want  of  room  to  get 
on  and  off  the  stage. 

I  have  occasionally  mentioned  Mr.  Edwin 
Booth  in  these  desultory  "  memories."  This  gen- 
tleman, who  to-day  stands  before  the  public  as 
the  representative  American  actor,  has  honestly 
won  his  spurs.  All  are  familiar  with  the  inci- 
dents of  his  career  since  he  achieved  eminence, 
but  his  earlier  history  is  not  so  well  known. 
Perhaps  some  reference  to  his  early  California 
days  may  not  be  uninteresting.  As  I  have 
already  stated,  I  first  knew  Mr.  Edwin  Booth  in 
the  old  Sacramento  Theatre,  in  1855 ;  UP  to 
May,  1856,  he  played  there,  and  in  the  Forrest 
Theatre,  an  extended  round  of  characters,  with 
varying  success  but  with  constant  progress.  His 
first  performance  of  " Richard"  was  in  August,  and 
the  Sacramento  critics  pronounced  him  "promis- 
ing." In  that  same  month  he  played  "Hamlet." 
I  remember  it  because  I  played  the  "  Ghost,"  and 
Mrs.  Judah  the  "Queen,"  and  the  Union  of  the 
next  morning  said :  "  Mr.  E.  Booth  portrayed  the 


278  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

character  of  trie  Prince  of  Denmark  most  vividly, 
and  in  some  scenes  '  his  acting  would  compare 
very  favorably  with  that  of  Murdoch.' '  He  also 
appeared  as  "  Demetrius  "  in  the  "  Midsummer 
Nights  Dream,"  and  "  Antipholis  of  Syracuse  ;  n 
but  these  performances  called  forth  no  comment. 
I  referred  to  his  playing  "Buckett"  the  Detec- 
tive in  a  previous  chapter,  and  of  this  the 
Union  said :  "  He  showed  himself  a  genuine 
star."  He  also  played  "  Marston  "  in  the  "  Mil- 
lionaire," and  "  Wildrake"  in  the  "Love  Chase," 
with  many  other  characters  in  support  of  the 
Gougenheim  Sisters.  He  then  took  a  trip  to 
Marysville,  and  in  November  the  two  companies 
of  the  "  Forrest"  and  the  "  Old"  Theatre,  were 
united,  and  he  opened  at  the  first-named  house 
as  "Benedick;"  he  also  played  "Charles  Sur- 
face "  and  "  Young  Marlow."  Mrs.  Sinclair  was 
then  fighting  her  way  through  the  notorious 
"  Forrest  divorce  suit,"  and  going  up  to  Sacra- 
mento she  took  the  "  Old  "  Theatre,  and  enrolled 
Mr.  Booth  in  her  corps,  in  company  with  Henry 
Sedley  and  others.  Here  his  acting  of  "  Claude 
Melnotte  "  drew  forth  great  praise,  and  a  critic 
declared  that  "If  the  subject  of  this  notice  will 
but  apply  himself  industriously,  unceasingly  and 
perseveringly  to  his  profession,  he  will  ere  long 
rank  himself  among  the  foremost  of  living 
actors."  This  was  prophecy. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  ,  279 

He  made  his  great  success  as  "  Phidias  "  in 
the  "  Marble  Heart,"  which  was  played  nineteen 
nights,  the  "Marco"  of  the  cast  being  Mrs.  Cath- 
erine Sinclair. 

The  company  then  went  to  Nevada  City  and 
Marysville,  and  on  their  return  the  play  was  re- 
peated for  many  nights,  when  a  complimentary 
benefit  was  tendered  him,  in  recognition,  as  the 
bills  declared,  of  the  "  genius  of  the  man"  and 
"  in  honor  of  his  great  talent."  He  continued 
playing  constantly  in  leading  and  ordinary  parts, 
and  always  rising  in  the  esteem  of  the  press  and 
the  public. 

In  March,  Mrs.  Sinclair's  farewell  benefit  was 
announced — as  she  was  "  going  East  to  appear 
in  the  second  trial  of  her  divorce  suit" — and  on 
that  occasion  he  appeared  in  "  The  Follies  of  a 
Night."  That  performance  was  a  strange  med- 
ley of  the  Classic  and  Ethiopian  Drama — Booth, 
Sedley  and  Wheatleigh  in  the  first,  Sam.  Wells, 
Billy  Birch  and  Coes  in  the  latter. 

The  ubiquitous  John  S.  Potter  next  threw  his 
net  and  caught  Mr.  Booth  for  the  Forrest  The- 
atre ;  but  the  engagement  was  not  a  success. 

In  April,  Mr.  Baker  was  manager,  and  Mr. 
Booth  was  again  "  leading  man."  On  one  night 
a  Sacramento  dancing-master  attempted  "  Ham- 
let," and  Mr.  Booth  appeared  as  the  "  Ghost ;" 
Sophie  Edwin  was  the  "  Queen,"  and  Mrs.  Tho- 


280  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

man  the  "  Ophelia."  The  dancing-master  was 
not  satisfied  with  one  exhibition  of  his  folly,  and 
on  repeating  the  play  met  with  a  "  Shale's"  re- 
ception, being  hooted  from  the  stage  amid  cries 
of  "Hands  across!"— "  Ladies  chain!"— "  Down 
the  middle!"  etc.  A  few  nights  after,  Mr.  Booth 
played  u  Hamlet"  to  a  splendid  benefit,  when  the 
critics  again  said :  "  There  is  nothing  now  to 
hinder  his  onward  march  to  the  highest  distinc- 
tion in  his  profession."  Prophecy  again. 

He  also  appeared  as  "  Sir  Edward  Mortimer" 
in  the  "  Iron  Chest,"  a  character  in  which  his 
father  was  superlatively  great.  Afterwards  he 
ran  through  the  whole  range  of  tragic  characters, 
with  increasing  popularity ;  and  on  one  night 
appeared  for  the  benefit  of  the  family  of  James 
King  of  William,  who  was  murdered  by  Casey. 
He  also  appeared  as  "  Richelieu "  for  the  first 
time. 

In  this  continuous  round  of  arduous  effort,  ex- 
tending over  a  period  of  nearly  twelve  months, 
Edwin  Booth  proved  the  spirit  that  was  in  him  ; 
and  after  a  lapse  of  more  than  twenty  years, 
during  which  he  had  achieved  fame  and  fortune, 
he  returned  to  California  to  supplement  the  tri- 
umphs won  elsewhere  with  magnificent  and 
unqualified  success.  Most  surely,  he  has  hon- 
estly won  his  spurs. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  281 

It  is  quite  possible  that  the  reader  may  feel 
surprise  that  recognized  and  acknowledged  art- 
ists like  Mr.  Booth  and  Julia  Dean  and  others 
should  incur,  as  they  did  in  those  early  California 
days,  the  discomforts  of  travel,  and  the  incon- 
veniences of  ill-lighted  halls  and  meagre  appoint- 
ments in  the  pursuit  of  their  art.  But,  apart 
from  the  fact  that  there  was  "money  in  it,"  there 
was  an  amount  of  intelligence  in  the  audiences 
of  those  mining  regions  quite  equal  to  that  which 
gathered  in  the  pit  and  boxes  in  San  Francisco 
or  Sacramento.  College  graduates  and  accom- 
plished scholars,  as  well  as  merchants  and  art- 
isans, were  hunting  gold  in  every  gulch  and 
ravine,  and  rough  though  their  attire  might  be, 
they  were  as  well  qualified  to  judge  of  the  merits 
or  demerits  of  author  or  actor  as  a  New  York  or 
Boston  auditor. 

Management  was  shifty  and  uncertain  in  the 
Bay  and  Capital  cities,  and  a  well-balanced  organ- 
ization rarely  failed  of  profit  in  the  interior. 
When  I  was  out  with  Julia  Dean  it  was  a  rare 
thing  to  play  anywhere,  even  in  the  roughest 
mining  camp,  to  less  than  three  hundred  dollars 
a  night ;  and  the  audiences  were  as  appreciative, 
perhaps  more  so,  than  in  places  that  boasted 
more  refinement.  The  mountain  tours  were 
healthy,  pleasant  and  profitable. 


282          -    Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Between  the  dates  of  April  8th  and  June 
1858,  I  made  the  interior  tour  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  George 
Mitch  el,  when  we  were  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Warwick  and  his  "  bones."  We  started  from 
and  returned  to  Sacramento,  playing  in  fifty- 
eight  mining  towns  and  camps,  and  traveling  a 
little  upwards  of  one  thousand  miles.  I  recall 
nothing  worthy  of  especial  mention. 

In  July  following,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Wai- 
lack,  Jr.,  arrived  in  California,  and  I  was  glad 
again  to  meet  old  friends.  Mr.  Wallack,  fine 
actor  as  he  was,  was  not  a  pronounced  success 
in  California.  He  opened  at  Maguire's  Opera 
House  in  San  Francisco  as  "  Macbeth,"  and 
afterwards  took  the  American  Theatre  for  a 
short  season,  where  I  joined  him. 

My  principal  "memories"  of  that  short  season 
are  of  the  production  of  two  "  original "  plays, 

one  a  comedy  by  Mr. ,  entitled  "  Fast  Folks 

in  California,"  now  forgotten  by  the  public,  and 
by  myself,  barring  the  title ;  and  another  with 
the  sounding  name  of  "  George  Washington,  or 
the  Trials  of  a  Hero,"  a  tragedy  in  four  acts,  by 
R.  M.  B.  This  "  tragedy"  was  certainly  an 
original  work,  partly  in  prose  and  partly  in 
blank  verse,  though  it  was  hard  to  tell  where 
either  began  or  ended.  I  append  two  short 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  283 

speeches  of  the  "Father  of  his  Country"  as 
specimen  bricks : 

' '  I  but  approve — that  war  not  conquer  all 
Civilities.     Enough  of  wounds  are  made 
By  dire  necessity  :  our  cause  can  well 
Afford  to  treat  polite  our  foe  the  English." 

Again — 

41  As  often  I  advised,  my  friends,  again 
I  must  repeat  to  you  :     When  critical 
The  times  are,  people  all  look  with  suspicion. 
My  worthy  generals,  and  friends  farewell !" 

The  intelligent  reader  must  decide  whether  this 
be  poetry — or  prose — or  what  ?  It  seems  to  me 
like  "what." 

I  soon  after  made  a  tour  of  the  central  coun- 
ties, with  a  small  company  of  which  Miss 
Albertine  was  a  member.  This  lady  was  not 
as  prosperous  as  when  I  had  known  her  in  the 
East,  and  the  freshness  and  vivacity  of  her  per- 
sonations had  departed.  Her  subsequent  career 
was ,  a  sad  one ;  in  Australia,  where  she  went 
upon  leaving  California,  adversity  overtook  her ; 
poor  and  sick,  and  partially  blind,  she  was  found 
menially  employed  in  an  obscure  locality,  and 
given  passage  to  America  by  the  charity  of  some 
who  had  known  her  in  better  days.  She  has 
long  since  passed  from  public  observation. 

It  was,  I  think,  in  1858  that  Mrs.  John  Wood 
came  to  California.  No  more  popular  actress 


284  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

ever  visited  the  Pacific  Coast;  her  first  engage- 
ments at  the  Opera  House  were  a  series  of  tri- 
umphs ;  her  songs  were  whistled  and  sung  in 
the  streets,  and  the  audiences  of  the  interior  vied 
with  those  of  the  Bay  City  in  praise  of  her  sing- 
ing and  acting.  I  played  with  her  in  1859  for  a 
month  in  various  cities,  and  was  with  her  at  the 
American  Theatre  in  San  Francisco  on  her  re- 
turn to  the  city  in  March.  Mrs.  Wood  left  Cali- 
fornia soon  after,  and  never  returned.  As  a 
burlesque  actress,  her  equal  has  not  yet  been 
seen  among  those  who  have  succeeded  her. 

In  April,  1859,  I  played  for  the  first  time  at 
Maguire's  Opera  House  with  Miss  Avonia  Jones, 
and  subsequently  traveled  with  that  lady  in  the 
interior  for  a  short  season.  Miss  Jones  was  the 
daughter  of  Mrs.  Melinda  Jones  and  the  Count 
Joannes,  and  would  have  been,  I  think,  a  better 
actress  if  away  from  the  coaching  of  the  mother  ; 
Mrs.  Melinda  taught  her  to  over-act,  which  pro- 
pensity is  not  uncommon  among  the  members  of 
the  profession,  and  was  always  a  marked  pecu- 
liarity of  Mrs.  Jones.  Miss  Avonia  Jones  went 
afterwards  to  Australia,  and  was  reported  to  have 
been  married  to  Mr.  Gustavus  V.  Brooke,  whether 
truly  or  not,  I  know  not ;  her  death  occurred  not 
long  after  that  gentleman  was  lost  at  sea. 

In  1 860-6 1,  I  was  a  member  of  the  company 
attached  to  the  Opera  House,  but  was  occasion- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  285 

ally  drafted  for  service  in  the  interior.  The 
feverish  state  of  political  feeling,  foreboding  the 
internecine  war,  towards  which  our  country  was 
drifting,  had  an  ill-effect  on  theatricals ;  and  in 
some  localities  a  free  expression  of  opinion  was, 
if  not  dangerous,  impolitic ;  my  own  convictions 
were  so  firmly  rooted  that  I  never  feared  to  utter 
them  on  proper  occasions,  and  in  1862  these  con- 
victions found  expression  in  a  song,  which  I 
wrote  for  the  "  Seven  Sons"  —  a  sort  of  twin 
extravaganza  to  the  " Seven  Sisters" — produced 
in  great  style  at  the  Metropolitan  Theatre ;  it 
was  adapted  to  the  "Glory  hallelujah"  air.  I 
will  not  inflict  this  song  upon  my  readers,  but 
simply  give  the  concluding  stanza,  as  an  intro- 
duction to  what  follows : 

"Swear,  freemen,  by  your  mothers'  graves 

And  by  your  glorious  sires — 
Swear  by  your  country  and  your  fame, 

And  by  your  household  fires  ! 
By  Ellsworth's — Lyon's — Baker's  blood, 

Be  the  battle  lost  or  won, 
Come  weal  or  woe — come  life  or  death, 
The  flag  shall  still  march  on. 

Glory,  hallelujah,  etc." 

I  knew  Col.  Edward  D.  Baker  well ;  and  had 
often  sat  enraptured  by  an  eloquence,  such  as  is 
rarely  given  to  men.  I  recall  the  impression 
made  on  the  crowd  upon  the  plaza,  by  the  open- 
ing words  of  his  oration  at  the  obsequies  of 


286  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Broderick — "A  Senator  lies  dead  in  our  midst." 
He  was  a  born  orator  and  could  sway  trie  souls 
of  men.  Col.  Baker  was  very  fond  of  the 
theatre.  While  traveling  with  Julia  Dean,  we 
were  at  the  town  of  Oroville,  where  he  was  in 
attendance  at  the  session  of  court  in  a  case  in 
which  he  was  counsel,  and  sat  one  evening 
through  the  play  "Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts" 
with  great  apparent  pleasure.  I  hope  I  may  not 
be  thought  vain,  if  I  say  how  much  pleasure  I 
felt  in  the  compliment  conveyed  by  his  words, 
"  Mr.  Leman,  I  think  you  play  "Jesse  Rural" 
almost  as  well  as  Rufus  Blake." 

In  the  cast  of  the  "  Extravaganza"  was  the 
name  of  a  lady,  one  of  the  earliest  among  the 
dramatic  pioneers  to  the  Golden  Land,  Miss 
Mary  Woodward,  afterward  Mrs.  Mary  Stuart. 
She  came,  I  think,  in  1852  and  delivered  the 
poetical  address  on  the  opening  of  the  second 
Jenny  Lind  Theatre.  In  characters  of  "  serious 
import "  and  some  of  the  heavy  heroines  of  tra- 
gedy, she  was  a  good  actress  and  it  nearly  broke 
her  heart  to  have  any  one  proposed  for  "  Lady 
Macbeth,"  if  she  was  by.  This  was  certainly  a 
pardonable  self-esteem,  for  she  played  the  char- 
acter admirably.  Mrs.  Stuart  died  in  1872  and 
lies  with  others,  her  brothers  and  sisters  in  the 
mimic  art,  in  the  cemetery  of  Laurel  Hill.  "Re- 
quiescat  in  pace  !  " 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  287 

Another  name  in  that  list  is  revealed  to  me;— 
what  form  shall  it  now  take  ? — then  we  all  famil- 
iarly called  her  "Aggy  Perry."  When  some 
years  before  she  came,  a  bright  girl,  from  Aus- 
tralia, she  was  known  as  Agnes  Land,  at  a  later  day 
she  became  Mrs.  Agnes  Booth,  and  now  she  is  Mrs. 
Agnes  Schoeffel ;  but  ever  and  always  she  was  and 
is  an  admirable  actress  and  the  juvenile  ability 
so  evident,  when  but  a  mere  girl,  has  ripened  into 
the  full  fruition  of  artistic  power.  "  Father 
Tom  "  greets  his  little  "  Colleen  Bawn  "  of  the 
old  days — across  the  continent  with  an  All  hail ! 

Two  other  names  are  in  the  programme  of 
that  "  Extravaganza"  and  with  what  melan- 
choly feelings  are  they  recalled :  Jenny  and  Alicia 
Maiideville.  Some  years  before  the  Mandeville 
sisters  were  great  favorites  with  Californians,  I 
had  met  them  concertizing  all  through  the  State. 
The  eldest,  Miss  Agatha,  became  Mrs.  States  and 
reached  the  position  of  recognized  prima  donna 
in  Italian  opera.  Jenny  was  a  pleasant  singer 
and  lively  actress  and  Alicia,  the  youngest,  almost 
equally  capable.  The  two  latter  perished  at  sea, 
being  victims  of  the  terrible  disaster  which  befell 
the  steamer  Pacific  off  the  northern  coast  of  Cal- 
ifornia in  1872.  With  Jenny  were  also  lost  her 
husband  and  her  infant  child.  The  eldest  sister, 
Mrs.  States,  had  died  in  New  York  a  short  time 
previously,  and  the  old  mother,  going  on  from 


288  Memories  of  an   Old  Actor. 

California  to  the  last  sad  rites  of  her  child,  sick- 
ened and  died  herself  within  two  or  three  days  ; 
within  a  twelvemonth  the  whole  family  had 
passed  away.  The  "  Mandevilles "  are  to  me 
indeed  a  sad  and  solemn  "  memory." 

My  song  was  destined  to  create  a  lively  breeze 
in  the  town  of  San  Jose  a  short  time  afterwards. 
It  was  enthusiastically  applauded  by  the  Union 
portion  of  the  audience  and  hooted  by  the  oppo- 
site faction,  who  loudly  called  for  u  Dixie." 
There  was  fear  for  a  time  of  a  general  row,  when 
it  was  announced  that  Jennie  Mandeville  would 
sing  the  song  on  the  following  evening — u  if  the 
house  tumbled  down."  The  theatre  was  filled  in 
anticipation  of  the  fun  ;  at  the  proper  time  Jennie 
came  forward  and  sang  u  Our  flag  goes  marching 
on "  in  her  liveliest  style  amid  the  wildest 
applause. 

In  the  summer  of  1862  an  organization  was 
formed,  of  which  I  was  a  member,  and  the 
"  Union  Theatre,"  (a  building  now  demolished), 
was  opened  and  successfully  run  for  some 
three  months.  Some  of  the  best  of  the  old 
stock  were  in  the  venture  and  it  deserved 
to  succeed.  Mr.  Mayo  was  a  rapidly  rising 
young  man  and  with  Buchanan,  Barry,  Thayer, 
Mrs.  Saunders,  and  Miss  Virginia  Buchanan,  the 
manager's  daughter,  made  a  company  worthy  of 
praise.  Our  benefits  were  all  successes ;  Mrs. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  289 

Julia  Dean  Hayne  and  Mrs.  Judah  played  for 
mine  and  I  had  an  audience  up  to  the  roof. 

On  the  3d  of  November  of  the  same  year  I 
started  on  what  was  intended  for  a  short  trip,  but 
which  eventuated  in  a  successful  season  of  sev- 
eral months'  duration,  most  of  the  time  in  Sacra- 
mento. I  can  with  truth  record  the  whole  of 
that  season  as  a  continuous  series  of  pleasant 
California  "  memories."  Starting  out,  as  we  did, 
without  any  great  expectations  and  meeting  with 
almost  uninterrupted  success,  the  satisfaction 
was  general.  Our  hasty  manager,  the  great 
Buchanan,  was,  to  be  sure,  frequently  in  hot 
water,  but  he  never  retained  heat  or  anger  long, 
and  I  can  say  with  truth,  that  all  of  the  old  fel- 
low's outbreaks  were  to  me  food  only  for  mirth. 

I  remember  one  particularly  ridiculous  scene, 
which  occurred  in  the  Capital  city.  When  we 
reached  that  point,  Buchanan  strengthened  his 
force  with  some  additions,  among  whom  were 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Pope  and  Mr.  W.  C. 
Forbes ;  this  latter  gentleman  I  had  known  in 
the  early  days  of  the  "  Tremont "  Theatre, 
where  he  had  been  engaged  one  season.  Although 
a  tragedian,  he  had  a  soft  voice  and  an  almost 
womanly  manner  of  expression ;  his  walk  was 
peculiar,  the  muscles  of  his  lower  limbs  seeming 
to  move  without  any  sympathy  with  the  rest  of 
nis  corporeal  organization,  and  with  a  kind  of 


290  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

sorrowful  look  lie  always  appeared  to  be  in 
trouble,  whether  he  was  or  110.  Rufus  Blake 
jocularly  named  him  the  "king  of  grief "  and 
called  his  walk  Forbes'  "  sliding  scale."  Mr. 
Buchanan  and  Mr.  Forbes  had  met  when  they 
were  both  in  England.  Some  unpleasantries 
had  occurred  between  them,  but  when  Mr.  Forbes 
turned  up  in  Sacramento,  whatever  their  variance 
was,  it  was  waived,  and  Mr.  Forbes  was  engaged. 
It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  old  trouble 
cropped  out  again  and  pretty  soon  grew  into  open 
war. 

I  forget  what  the  play  was  on  the  evening 
when  it  culminated ;  I  remember  that  the  after- 
piece was  the  farce  of  "  Family  Jars."  While  I 
was  upon  the  stage  during  the  last  act  of  the 
play,  to  my  surprise,  Mr.  Forbes  entered  from 
one  side,  quite  ignoring  my  presence,  and  in  an 
excited  manner  began  to  talk  to  the  audience, 
and  immediately  from  the  opposite  side  Mr.  Bu- 
chanan, equally  excited,  came  on  and  began  to 
talk.  As  it  was  "  not  my  funeral,"  I  got  off  as 
quickly  as  possible,  leaving  the  field  to  the  two 
angry  belligerents,  who  amazed  and  bewildered 
the  public  with  a  series  of  charges  and  denials — 
assertions  and  counter-statements  about  some- 
thing or  other  of  which  they  literally  knew 
nothing  and  cared  less.  The  more  they  talked 
the  louder  they  grew,  and  while  they  were  jaw- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  291 

ing  the  audience  applauded  both,  thinking  the 
row  was  quite  as  good  as  any  play.  When  tired 
out,  they  finally  went  off,  and  the  mirth  reached 
its  climax,  as  I  came  on  from  the  upper  part  of 
the  stage  and  exclaimed — "  We  will  now  proceed 
with 'Family  Jars.'" 

The  biennial  session  of  the  State  Legislature 
occurred  that  year,  and  certain  charges  of  bribery 
with  respect  to  the  election  of  one  of  its  honorable 
members,  made  a  great  commotion  in  political 
circles  ;  the  matter  was  ventilated  in  the  House, 
and  was  for  the  time  the  talk  not  only  of  Sacra- 
mento, but  of  the  whole  State.  I  took  advantage 
of  this  public  exposure  by  composing  a  political 
squib,  under  the  title  of  "  King  Caucus,  or  The 
Senatorial  Muddle,"  which  hit  the  public  fancy, 
and  filled  the  theatre  for  a  week.  This  little 
extravaganza  was  arranged  in  "  four  sessions," 
and  the  characters  were  "made  up"  and  recog- 
nized as  prominent  members  of  the  Legislature. 
The  bill  was  headed  with  the  couplet — 

"  Scheming  Rogues  with  forms  to  mock  us, 
Straggling  one  by  one  to  Caucus." 

And  to  enhance  the  effect,  the  "  original  ward- 
robe" in  which  one  "  honorable  gentleman"  hid 
himself,  to  listen  to  the  bribe  which  another 
"  honorable  gentleman"  was  charged  with  pro- 
posing to  a  third  "  honorable  gentleman,"  was 


292  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

brought  from  the  "  Golden  Eagle  Hotel"  and 
used  for  the  same  purpose  on  the  stage.  The 
squib  answered  completely  the  purpose  for  which 
it  was  intended,  and  caused  a  good-natured  laugh 
all  around. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Washoe — Virginia  City — Zephyrs — Opening  Address — Salted 
Mines — A  Narrow  Escape — The  Sanitary  Fund — Grant 
and  Pemberton — Sacramento — Mr.  Albert  Hart — Adah 
Isaacs  Menken — Lake  Tahoe — The  Big  Trout — Mr.  S. 
Irwin — A  Mormon  Bishop — The  Hawaiian  Islands — Hon- 
olulu—Ada Clare  — The  Royal  Yacht  —  Volcano  of 
Kilauea— Hilo— The  Pic-Nic— Native  Bathing— Dramatic 
Reading — Honolulu — King  Kalakaua — The  Hula-hula. 

OUR  prosperous  season  terminated  about  the 
middle  of  April,  and  on  the  twenty-second  of 
that  month  we  crossed  the  Sierra  Nevada  Moun- 
tains to  Carson  City,  via  Placerville,  over  the  grade 
that  Hank  Monk  made  historic  when  he  let  out 
the  lines  over  his  six-in-hand,  and  assured  Horace 
Greeley  that  if  he'd  "  hold  on"  he'd  have  him  in 
Placerville  "  on  time." 

At  Carson,  Silver  City  and  Gold  Hill  we  filled 
up  the  time  until  the  loth  of  May,  when  we  got 
into  Virginia  City.  This  was  in  the  flush  times 
of  the  "  Comstock,"  and  the  wild  town  on  the 
slope  of  Mount  Davidson  was  crowded  with  men 
who  were  there  to  make  their  fortune — or  had 


294  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

made  it,  in  "  feet."  From  the  edge  of  Carson 
Valley,  up  through  Silver  City  and  Gold  Hill, 
over  the  ridge  between  the  latter  place  and  Vir- 
ginia, where  sometimes  the  "  Washoe  Zephyrs" 
blew  with  sufficient  strength  to  overturn  a  stage- 
coach, along  the  whole  line  of  the  city  to  far 
north  of  the  Ophir  Mine,  was,  or  was  supposed 
to  be,  one  vast  repository  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
from  North,  South,  East  and  West  the  seekers 
for  wealth  had  come  to  get  it. 

The  wonderful  produce  of  the  "Gould  and 
Curry,"  the  "  Imperial,"  the  "  Ophir"  and  other 
leads  that  had  then  been  opened,  had  made  men 
wild,  and  holes  in  the  ground  were  dug  and 
"  salted"  and  new  "  leads"  discovered  every  day, 
which,  with  all  their  "dips,  spurs  and  angles," 
were  put  on  the  market ;  and  men  with  mining 
"  shares"  in  their  pocket  representing  a  value  of 
$50,000  would  frequently  borrow  four  bits,  if  an- 
other equally  wealthy  friend  had  it  to  lend,  to  get 
a  dinner  at  the  restaurant.  It  was  the  commence- 
ment of  the  wild  game  of  speculation  which,  at 
a  later  day,  was  transferred  to  San  Francisco, 
making  a  few  rich  and  beggaring  thousands. 

Our  first  performances  were  given  in  a  hall, 
the  name  of  which  I  forget,  and  we  had  power- 
ful rivals  in  the  minstrel  and  hurdy-gurdy  estab- 
lishments. But  a  fair  patronage  was  secured. 
The  ground  had  been  obtained  for  the  erection  of 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  295 

a  new  theatre,  which  was  commenced  soon  after 
our  arrival,  by  Mr.  Thomas  Maguire,  and  rapidly 
hurried  to  completion.  Our  company  formed  the 
nucleus  of  a  new  organization,  which  was  filled 
by  additions  from  the  Bay  City,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  July  ad,  1863,  the  new  theatre  was  opened 
with  Bulwer's  Comedy  of  "  Money,"  preceded  by 
an  opening  address  by  Walter  M.  Leman,  spoken 
by  Mrs.  Julia  Dean  Hayne. 

In  speaking  of  that  first  night,  the  Territor- 
ial Enterprise  said  :  "  There  was  scarcely  space 
to  move  throughout  the  theatre,  it  was  so  densely 
filled.  A  strong  wind  blew  during  a  portion  of 
the  evening  and  there  was  considerable  agitation 
visible  in  the  fairer  portion  of  the  audience;  the 
most  decided  sensation  of  the  evening  was  that 
produced  on  Mrs.  Hayne — by  a  mild  shower  of 
gravel-stones,  which  rained  upon  the  building. 
Large  as  was  the  audience,  its  magnitude  was 
surpassed  by  it's  beauty  and  manliness.  Well, 
we'll  just  bet,  that  if  there's  a  marriageable 
actress  in  the  company  with  winning  graces  and 
matrimonial  inclinations,  she  never  goes  over  the 
mountains  unwedded."  I  append  a  few  lines 
from  my  opening  address,  as  a  u  memory"  of  the 
drama  on  the  Comstock  : 


296  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Where  the  Sierra's  rugged  mountains  show 
Their  peaks  aloft — amid  the  drifted  snow, 
Skirting  the  vale,  where  Carson's  placid  stream 
Flows  onward  to  the  desert — where  the  gleam 
Of  God's  own  sunlight  shines  in  fervid  power 
On  rocks  of  gold,  and  hills  of  glittering  ore ; 
Where  thunder-smitten  mountains  lift  on  high 
Their  rifted  battlements  against  the  sky. 
In  this  fresh  clime,  a  youthful  empire  springs 
To  life  and  vigor  upon  freedom's  wings, 
Nevada  ! — soon  her  starry  gem  to  set 
Upon  our  Union's  glittering  Coronet. 

*  *  -3f  •&  -X-  #•  •# 

Amidst  her  rocky  hills,  of  verdure  shorn 

A  young  and  gay  metropolis  is  born 

Sudden  as  from  the  brain  of  mighty  Jove 

Minerva  sprang — or,  as  the  Queen  of  Love 

Rose  blushing  from  the  Adriatic  Sea 

In  beauty  radiant  and  in  fancy  free; 

And  here  is  reared  a  rich  and  gorgeous  dome 

Of  taste,  the  temple  and  the  muses  home/ 

And  here,  obedient  to  Thespian  laws, 

We  stand  to-night  to  plead  with  you  our  cause. 


The  "mild  shower  of  gravel  stones,"  of  which 
the  Enterprise  speaks,  not  only  produced  a  "sen- 
sation "  upon  Mrs.  Hayne,  but  upon  every  one  in 
the  house ;  I  am  sure  it  did  upon  me.  When  the 
:<  Washoe  Zephyr,"  sweeping  up  the  canon, 
"  rained "  that  stony  artillery  upon  the  rear  of 
the  new  building,  which  creaked  in  the  tempest 
like  a  ship  at  sea,  I  thought  for  a  moment  that 
the  opening  and  closing  of  u  Maguire's  New 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  297 

Opera  House  "  would  occur  on  the  same  evening, 
but  it  was  reserved  for  the  usual  fate,  which  be- 
fel  it  years  after ;  it  went  up  in  a  cloud  of  fire, 
and  took  a  good  portion  of  the  city  along  with  it. 
Virginia  City  was  rather  a  wild  "  metropolis  " 
in  those  days — "  new  discoveries  "  were  reported 
every  day,  and  speculation  ran  mad.  There 
were  two  stock  boards  in  operation,  and  it  was 
only  necessary  to  dig  a  hole,  "  salt  "  it  a  little, 
and  put  the  "  shares  "  on  the  market  to  become  a 
capitalist  or  a  beggar  in  four-and-twenty  hours, 
dependent  upon  whether  one  bought  or  sold. 
Some  of  the  sharps  dug  a  hole  upon  the  top  of 
Mount  Davidson,  and  within  a  day  or  two  ele- 
gantly engraved  shares  of  the  "  Mina  del  Alta," 
the  mine  on  the  mountain,  were  put  on  the  board. 
Speculation  on  the  "  green  cloth  "  of  battle  was 
also  at  its  height,  and  the  "  tiger  "  walked  abroad 
night  and  day.  Law  and  order  had  the  "  best 
hand,"  as  the  sporting  gentlemen  allowed ;  but 
still,  it  was  thought  a  dull  week  when  there  had 
not  been  one  or  two  u  men  for  breakfast."  I  have 
found  by  experience,  that  a  quiet  man  can  get 
along  very  well,  generally — even  in  a  stormy 
community,  by  minding  his  own  business — yet, 
sometimes  it  is  risky  to  be  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
unsettled  spirits.  I  will  mention  an  instance. 
I  was  living  at  "  Wimmer's  Virginia  House." 
Wimmer  was  an  old  San  Franciscan  whom  I  had 


298  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

long  known,  was  a  popular  landlord,  and  his  lodg- 
ing-house was  the  best  in  the  city ;  he  set  no 
table.  My  room  was  one  of  many  on  either  side 
of  a  hall,  beneath  which  was  a  large  saloon  on 
the  ground  floor,  where,  when  day  drifted  far  into 
night,  and  men  with  angry  antagonisms  (for 
it  was  the  time  of  civil  war) ,  met  together,  each 
one  with  a  pistol  in  his  hip-pocket,  a  sharp  word 
was  often  followed  with  a  sharp  report.  My  cus- 
tom was  to  go  home  from  the  play  and  quietly 
up  to  bed,  which  having  done,  one  evening,  as  I 
sat  on  the  edge  of  my  couch  undressing,  with 
my  head  leaning  forward,  up  through  the  floor 
came  a  pistol  bullet,  just  grazing  my  ear,  and 
buried  itself  in  the  ceiling  of  the  room.  I  heard 
a  rapid  step  in  the  corridor,  and  Wimmer  pale  as 
a  sheet  burst  into  my  room,  with  "  My  God, 
Leman,  are  you  alive  ?  "  I  was,  but  I  was  un- 
doubtedly quite  as  pale  as  Wimmer.  He  told 
me  that  he  had  been  trying  in  vain  to  compose 
the  angry  disputants,  and  when  the  pistol  was 
fired,  knowing  the  position  of  my  room  and  bed, 
he  feared  the  worst.  I  didn't  sleep  very  well 
during  the  rest  of  that  night. 

The  antagonistic  feelings  engendered  by  civil 
strife  were  very  bitter  in  Virginia  City  at  that 
time,  but  the  Union  spirit  was  greatly  in  pre- 
dominance. A  big  meeting  was  held  in  the 
Opera  House  on  one  afternoon,  where,  in  less 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  299 

than  an  hour,  $5,275  were  subscribed  for  the 
sanitary  fund,  and  the  historic  "sack  of  flour" 
was  sold  and  resold,  producing,  I  don't  know  how 
many,  but  very  many  thousand  dollars.  I,  my- 
self, had  the  pleasure  of  owning  that  sack  of 
flour  for  about  three  minutes. 

I  was  in  acquaintanceship  and  on  friendly  re- 
lations with  gentlemen,  from  whom,  in  political 
sentiment,  I  was  as  far  as  are  the  poles,  apart. 
On  one  occasion,  one  of  these  friends  met  me  as 
I  entered  the  hotel,  saying,  with  a  satisfied  tone, 
"  Leman,  old  boy,  I'm  sorry  to  hurt  your  feelings, 
but  we've  got  great  news  from  -Vicksburg,  and 
Pemberton  has  knocked  h — 1's  bells  out  of  Grant's 
wheel-houses."  Within  five  days  the  truth  came, 

and  meeting  my  secesh  friend,  I  said,  "  Mr. , 

old  boy,  I'm  sorry  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but 
we*ve  got  great  news  from  Vicksburg,  and 
Grant  has  knocked  h — 1's  bells  out  of  Pernber- 
ton's  wheel-houses." 

In  that  era  of  sectional  bitterness,  happily  now 
passed  away,  the  utterance  of  disloyal  sentiments 
was  painfully  prevalent,  and  spoken  as  they  were 
in  favor  of  men  who  upheld  the  "  Patriarchal 
Institution"  which  claimed  the  right  to  manacle 
men  because  their  skins  were  black,  aroused  in 
me  the  same  feelings  which  caused  me  to  reflect, 
when  I  saw  the  bright  mulatto  boy  fettered  for 
no  crime,  on  the  deck  of  the  Mississippi  steamer, 


300  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

and  the  poor  old  negro  toiling  in  chains  on  the 
plains  of  Chalmette,  and  again  I  reflected  on  the 
so-called  "  Patriarchal  Institution  "  which  made 
our  Declaration  of  Independence  a  living  lie  in 
the  face  of  all  the  world,  and  felt  that  it  did  not 
perish  from  the  land  an  hour  to  soon. 

The  season  closed  in  the  latter  part  of  Sep- 
tember, and  I  re-crossed  the  mountains  by  the 
grade  (the  name  of  which  I  now  forget),  but  I 
remember  that  it  led  by  the  edge  of  the  beautiful 
little  Donner  Lake,  where,  in  the  early  California 
days,  the  wretched,  snowed-in  party  perished  one 
by  one,  the  bodies  of  the  dead  feeding  those  who 
survived,  and  was  in  San  Francisco,  at  the  " Opera 
House,"  until  the  last  week  in  December,  when  I 
again  found  myself  with  our  old  friend  Buchan- 
an, in  Sacramento. 

On  February  i6th,  the  "  Millionaire "  was 
played  for  the  author's  benefit,  to  a  crowded 
house.  "  Marston,"  by  Mr.  Charles  Pope,  "Em- 
ily Larcelles,"  by  Miss  Virginia  Buchanan,  and 
"  Swift,"  by  Mr.  Albert  Hart.  Mr.  Hart  was  a 
well-known  citizen  of  Sacramento,  and  had,  in 
his  early  days,  some  experience  of  theatrical  life. 
He  appeared  to  advantage  on  this  occasion.  He 
has  been  in  political  life  since  then,  having  filled 
successively  the  offices  of  Governor's  Secretary, 
State  Librarian,  and,  I  believe,  Pension  Agent. 
Mr.  Hart  still  lives  in  Sacramento. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  301 

I  again  crossed  the  Sierras,  for  a  second  season 
in  Virginia  City,  where  the  theatre  opened  on 
the  second  of  March,  1864,  and  during  that  per- 
iod made  the  acquaintance  of  one  of  the  remark- 
able women  of  the  day — Adah  Isaacs  Menken. 
She  was  a  thorough  Bohemian,  possessed  won- 
derful beauty  of  face  and  form,  and  with  these, 
accomplished  triumphs  which  her  indifferent 
stage  ability  would  never  have  achieved.  She 
was  a  rattle-brained,  good-natured  adventuress, 
born  of  Jewish  parents,  somewhere  in  the  South- 
ern States.  The  conventionalities  of  society 
were  quite  disregarded  by  the  "  Menken,"  and 
she  smoked  and  rode  astride,  and  gambled  with 
a  freedom  that  was  delightful  to  the  men  on  the 
Comstock,  who  hailed  her  arrival  with  joy,  for 
they  adopted  her  at  once  as  "  one  of  'em."  "Ma- 
zeppa,"  u  not  over-dressed,  nor  wholly  bare,"  but 
nearly  so>  was  in  her  element  with  these  men,  for 
she  had  the  faculty  of  adaptation  to  all  kinds  of 
men,  and  after  the  nightly  exposure  of  the 
"Tartar  Prince,"  "  naked  to  the  pitiless  storm," 
and  the  eager  eyes  of  admiring  miners,  she 

might  be  found  in  T.  P 's,  or  some  saloon 

where  the  red  and  white  chips  passed  merrily 
from  hand  to  hand,  and  where  she  said  she  went 
because  T.  P played  a  "  square  game." 

Miss  Menken  played  nothing  else  but  "  Ma- 
zeppa" — if  I  except  the  part  of  "  Katharine 


302  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Kloper,"  in  the  musical  trifle  of  "Lola  Montez," 
but  this  was  feeble  to  the  last  degree — and  faro, 
which  she  played  with  skill  and  success. 

The  career  of  the  "Menken  "  was  almost  as 
remarkable  as  that  of  her  great  predecessor,  Lola. 
Her  first  husband  was  John  C.  Heenan,  the  pug- 
ilist, then  she  captured  Orpheus  C.  Kerr,  and 
left  him  for  a  California  gambler,  with  whom  she 
went  to  Europe.  When  on  the  Continent,  she 
was  familiar  with  Dickens,  Dumas  and  Swin- 
burne, and  boasted  that  "  beginning  with  a  prize- 
fighter, she  would  end  with  a  prince,"  reversing 
Lola's  course,  who  began  with  a  king  and  ended 
with  a  miner,  and  she  came  very  near  succeeding. 
Fair  and  false,  and  fast  and  faithless,  her  soul 
might  possibly  have  gone  to  heaven — as  she  said 
it  would — through  the  u  gates  of  Paris,"  if  it 
could  have  got  out  of  that  gay  city,  where  her 
body  lies  buried  beneath  a  monument  inscribed 
with,  "  Thou  Knowest ;"  unsatisfactory  as  to  its 
meaning,  which  nobody  knows. 

Adah  Isaacs  Menken  is  a  vivid  "  memory  "  of 
the  drama  on  the  Comstock,  as  is  also  T. 

P ,  in  whose  saloon  she  used  to  fight  the 

tiger.  T.  P was  a  man  of  daring  personal 

courage,  and  was,  I  think,  a  civil  officer  at  the 
time.  Subsequently,  in  an  encounter  so  common 
in  those  days  among  men  of  his  class,  after  re- 
ceiving a  mortal  wound,  while  his  life-blood  was 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  303 

ebbing  rapidly  away,  he  had  the  desperate  deter- 
mination to  raise  himself  on  his  elbow  and  shoot 
his  slayer  dead  ;  both  were  buried  together. 

On  the  evening  of  May  I3th,  the  writer  was 
tendered  a  complimentary  testimonial  benefit 
when  the  "  School  for  Scandal "  was  acted. 
"Charles  Surface,"  Mr.  Charles  Pope ;  "  Lady 
Teazle,"  Mrs.  Charles  Pope  ;  "  Sir  Peter  Teazle," 
Mr.  Walter  M.  Iveman.  The  house  was  brim-full, 
which,  perhaps,  is  the  pleasantest  among  my 
"memories  "  of  the  Drama  on  the  Comstock. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  season,  Mr.  Charles 
Pope  and  myself  resolved  to  spend  a  day  or  two 
at  Lake  Tahoe  and  catch  trout,  before  we  re- 
crossed  the  mountains  from  the  land  of  sage- 
brush to  California,  the  land  of  fruit  and 
flowers ;  in  pursuance  of  which  plan  we  took  the 
stage  over  into  Lake  Valley,  and  put  up  at  the 
old  tavern  near  the  lake  shore  ;  I  forget  the  name 
of  the  house,  for  it  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago.  I  remember  it  was  one  of  those 
comfortable  old  roomy  log  houses,  with  a  fire- 
place in  the  great  bar-room  large  enough  to  hold 
a  whole  load  of  wood  ;  and  the  flaming  logs  were 
piled  upon  the  fire  with  reckless  profusion. 

Mr.  Pope  was,  as  I  supposed,  a  skillful  angler 
and  anticipated  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  from  the 
splendid  "  catch "  on  the  morrow.  I  hadn't 


304  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

much  confidence  in  my  own  •  abilities,  for  gener- 
ally, when  I  went  fishing,  I  got  many  bites  and 
few  fish ;  but  we  were  certain  of  a  pleasant  day 
on  the  lake,  whether  successful  or  not,  and  after 
breakfast  the  next  morning,  supplied  with  an 
ample  lunch,  we  took  seats  in  the  boat,  with  trol- 
ling lines  all  prepared,  and  our  boatman  plying 
his  oars,  were  soon  out  on  the  bosom  of  one  of 
the  loveliest  sheets  of  water  in  our  broad  land. 
Pope  had  been  anxious  to  get  a  bet  on  his  catch- 
ing the  first  fish,  which  I  didn't  want  to  take,  but 
finally  accepted — he  lost  the  bet.  We  kept  on, 
all  earnestness,  and  presently  I  caught  another, 
and  after  a  little  while  a  third.  These  were  all 
small,  which  made  Pope  laugh,  and  declare  that 
he  didn't  want  any  sardines,  but  he'd  soon  show 
me  the  kind  he  was  fishing  for.  Our  boatman 
slowly  skulled  the  boat,  with  our  lines  extended 
perhaps  a  hundred  feet  or  more,  when  suddenly 
came  a  pull  at  my  line,  as  if  a  shark  had  taken 
the  hook.  The  boatman  told  me  to  keep  cool 
and  haul  steady  and,  all  excitement,  I  succeeded 
in  landing  a  beautiful  trout,  which  seemed  to  me 
to  be  twice  as  large  as  any  shad  I  ever  bought  in 
the  Philadelphia  fish-market.  Charley  looked  on 
with  interest  and  was  as  much  excited  as  myself, 
for  fear  I  should  lose  my  noble  prey,  but  when 
he  was  safe  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  I  think  he 
began  to  feel  chagrined  at  his  ill-luck,  but  he  put 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  305 

a  good  face  on  it  and  swore  he'd  "  have  the  next 
big  fellow."  I  think  that  I  caught  one  more 
before  lunch  time,  when  we  put  into  the  little 
cove  of  Emerald  Bay  and  enjoyed  our  meal  and 
a  cigar. 

Charley,  certainly,  was  attended  by  ill  luck. 
Up  to  this  time  he  had  not  got  a  fish,  although 
he  had  hooked  several ;  but  the  afternoon  was  to 
redeem  his  piscatorial  reputation,  and  I  hoped 
that  it  would,  for  I  had  a  kind  of  guilty  feeling, 
as  if  I  were  doing  him  a  wrong  by  being  so 
lucky.  Well,  we  put  out  again  on  to  the  lake, 
and  from  that  time  up  to  the  hour,  when  it  was 
necessary  to  draw  in  our  line  and  return  to  shore, 
Pope  never  caught  one  fish  and  I  had  got  five  or 
six  more,  for  when  we  got  to  land  and  counted 
them,  there  were  thirteen  in  all.  Charley,  cer- 
tainly, took  his  ill  fortune  with  great  good  nature, 
but  said  little  or  nothing  to  the  inquiries  of  the 
men,  who  came  to  the  beach,  as  we  landed,  and 
wanted  to  know  who  caught  that  big  fellow.  We 
had  a  hearty  supper  and  adjourning  to  the  bar,  I 
went  up  to  the  Register,  which  lay  on  the 
counter,  where  visitors,  in  addition  to  their 
names,  had  added  memoranda  of  their  fishing 
experience,  as  thus—  "  May  25.  J.  J.  and  party, 
Sac.  City,  went  fishing ;  fine  luck ;  caught  a 
dozen  trout,  one  pretty  large  one," — and  turned 
over  its  leaves.  I  saw  Charley  looking  at  me,  as 


306  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

if  in  wonder  what  I  would  write  abont  our  day's 
fishing,  and  taking  the  pen,  I.  wrote  thus  after 
the  name  and  date:  "  Went  fishing  with  Mr. 
Pope ;  had  excellent  luck ;  caught  one  seven- 
pounder."  After  a  moment  or  two  Pope  went  up 
to  the  book,  read  what  I  had  written  and  taking 
a  pen,  wrote  underneath  with  a  quizzical  look  at 
me  before  doing  it :  u  Charles  Pope  went  fishing 

with  Mr.  Leman  ;  had  d d  bad  .luck  ;  caught 

nary  pounder." 

That  splendid  trout  was  boxed  up  and  sent  to 
Mark  Twain,  for  the  delectation  of  the  newspaper 
fellows  of  the  Enterprise,  with  a  letter  from  Char- 
ley Pope,  and  I  fully  believe  that  he  told  them 
he  caught  it ;  if  he  did,  I  forgive  him,  as  I  trust 
he  will  forgive  me  for  revealing  his  want  of  skill 
— (I  beg  pardon)  his  want  of  luck — the  day  that 
we  went  gypsying  and  fishing  on  Lake  Tahoe,  in 
the  pleasant  days  of  the  long  ago. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  in  returning  to 
California  from  Nevada  at  that  time,  instead  of 
going  over  into  Utah,  I  made  a  mistake.  Mr. 
Selden  Irwin  came  to  Virginia  City  during  the 
season  and  played  a  few  nights  with  us.  He  had 
been  with  his  wife  for  some  time  in  Salt  Lake 
City,  where  he  was  quite  a  favorite ;  indeed,  I 
think  he  was  the  first  professional  player  that 
reached  that  then  isolated  metropolis  of  the 
Saints. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  307 

Mr.  Pope  and  his  wife  and  myself  had  seriously 
entertained  the  idea  of  going  from  Virginia  City 
to  Salt  Lake,  and  Irwin  especially  encouraged 
the  scheme ;  clapping  me  on  the  back,  with  en- 
thusiasm he  exclaimed:  "Go!  by  all  means, 
go !  Leman,  you  are  the  very  man  they  want — 
you'll  be  a  Bishop  in  three  months !"  After 
some  correspondence  with  Mr.  Clason,  Brigham's 
son-in-law,  our  plan  was  abandoned.  Perhaps  it 
was  for  the  best,  for  with  that  Mormon  Bishopric 
and  the  attendant  harem  of  wives,  I  would  hardly 
have  survived  to  celebrate  my  golden  wedding 
with  one  wife,  which  I  did  two  years  ago. 

On  Saturday,  July  i6th,  1864,  I  embarked  on 
board  the  bark  u  Onward,"  Captain  Hempstead, 
for  Honolulu,  Hawaiian  Islands.  After  a  pleas- 
ant passage  over  a  calm  ocean,  we  sighted  the 
eastern  point  of  Maui,  and  passed  along  the 
northern  coast  of  Molokai  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  3ist,  and  on  the  following  day  were  moored 
at  the  pier  in  Honolulu.  It  was  the  anniversary 
of  the  Hawaiian  Restoration,  and  I  found  the 
city  decked  with  flags,  the  military  on  parade, 
and  the  population  in  festive  attire  ;  the  gala 
terminated  with  a  grand  ball  in  the  evening, 
attended  by  most  of  the  notables,  foreign  and 
native,  to  which  I  was  an  invited  guest. 

On  board  the  "Onward"  I  had  as  fellow- 
passengers,  two  gentlemen,  residents  of  San 


308  Memories  of  an   Old  Actor. 

Francisco,  an  old  school-fellow  whom  I  had  not 
previously  seen  in  many  years,  and  a  lady  who 
had  won  the  title  of  "  Queen  of  Bohemia,"  and 
was  perhaps  the  most  marked  specimen  of  her 
peculiar  class — Ada  Clare.  She  was  of  Southern 
birth,  and  had  a  reckless,  devil-may-care  spirit 
within  her  that  made  her  as  utterly  indifferent 
to  criticism  as  Lola  Montez  or  Menken ;  she  had 
a  lithe  form,  a  clear  complexion,  a  nervous  ex- 
pression, and  a  superabundant  wealth  of  massy 
blond  hair.  She  had  written  for  the  journals 
and  had  written  some  things  worth  remembrance 
though  now  forgotten ;  she  was  pleasant  com- 
pany on  shipboard,  and  made  the  trip  to  the 
Volcano,  riding  astride,  as  the  Hawaiian  women 
invariably  do,  and  as  every  sensible  woman  should 
do,  in  mountain  travel.  Miss  Clare  met  with  a 
painful  death  in  New  York,  some  years  later, 
falling  a  victim  to  hydrophobia  from  the  bite  of 
a  pet  dog. 

On  Thursday,  August  i6th,  a  pleasant  party 
of  six  in  number,  the  writer  being  one — three 
ladies  and  three  gentlemen — embarked  on  what 
had  been  the  Royal  Yacht  "  Naheniena,"  for 
Hilo,  Hawaii.  This  "  royal  yacht "  was  an  Old- 
enburgh  brig,  which  had  been  confiscated  to  the 
Hawaiian  Government  for  some  violation  of  mar- 
itime or  commercial  law,  and  his  Majesty  Kame- 
hamea  V,  having  no  navy,  resolved  to  indulge  in 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  309 

a  yacht,  and  had  her  cleaned  up,  a  crew  of  some 
forty  seamen  put  on  board,  and  made  the  voyage 
around  his  Island  Kingdom  in  her,  in  the  sum- 
mer previous  to  my  visit.  She  was  a  lumbering 
old  tub,  drew  as  much  water  as  a  more  modern 
vessel  of  three  times  her  tonnage,  and  with  an 
immense  spread  of  canvas  could,  I  think,  have 
won  any  prize  in  a  regatta  where  the  victor  was 
the  one  who  came  in  last;  but  though  slow,  she 
was  sure,  and  as  strong  as  wood  and  iron  could 
make  her. 

The  third  day  found  us  becalmed  between  the 
islands  of  Maui  and  Hawaii,  but  catching  a 
breeze,  we  beat  a  long  way  to  windward,  and  on 
Monday  morning  sailed  into  Byron's  Bay,  at  the 
head  of  which  is  situated  the  pretty  town  of 
Hilo ;  its  neat  white  cottages  nestled  among  the 
cocoanut  and  pandanus  trees,  each  residence  a 
fairy  bower  of  taste  and  comfort. 

All  our  preparations  completed,  we  started  from 
Hilo  on  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  the  24th  of 
August,  for  the  volcano  of  Kilauea.  I  will  not 
detail  the  events  of  that  interesting  ride,  but 
touch  only  on  some  salient  points.  The  whole 
face  of  the  country  was  a  kind  of  green  desola- 
tion. Mauna  Kea,  the  highest  peak  of  the 
Islands,  was  on  our  right  hand,  13,000  feet  above 
the  sea,  to  the  southwest  the  long  ridge  of  Mauna 
Loa  rising  to  nearly  the  same  altitude.  At  5  P.  M. 


310  Memories  of  an  Cftd  Actor. 

we  reached  a  native  grass  hut,  where  the  residents, 
with  the  assistance  of  our  attendants,  three  in 
number,  prepared  the  evening  meal,  which  we 
ate  with  sharp  appetite  and  went  to  our  repose 
on  pallets  of  fragrant  grass,  while  far  in  the 
southwest  a  fiery  cloud  hanging  in  the  still 
heavens  told  us  where  burns — 

' '  Pele  's  unquenched  fire. ' ' 

On  the  next  morning  we  rose  at  5,  were  in  the 
saddle  at  6,  and  reached  the  crater  at  10  A.  M. 

The  crater  of  Kilauea  is  of  gigantic  dimen- 
sions, oval  in  form,  upwards  of  three  miles  in 
length  by  two  in  breadth  and  with  almost  per- 
pendicular walls  or  sides  of  from  500  to  800  feet 
in  height.  The  bottom  is  a  black  flooring  of 
hardened  lava.  In  the  center  of  this  great  crater 
is  the  ever-living  lake  of  fire,  which,  in  the  day- 
light, shows  from  the  outer  bank  of  the  large 
crater  only  a  slumbering  pit  and  surrounded  by 
jagged  walls  of  desolation.  By  a  rough  trail  or 
path,  we  all  got  down  upon  what  might  be  termed 
the  first  bench  of  the  crater,  where  stunted  trees 
and  ferns  contended  for  a  foothold  on  the  very 
borders  of  eternal  fire  and  ruin.  Here,  also,  we 
found  the  Ohelo,  a  juicy  berry,  abundant  in  the 
bushes  and  wild  strawberries  ripening  in  the  sun. 

The  weather,  until  the  27th,  was  unpropitious 
for  our  night  visit  to  the  burning  lake.  A  thick 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  311 

mist  began  falling,  as  we  commenced  the  descent, 
but,  following  our  guides,  we  scrambled  down 
into  this  immense  bowl  in  the  Earth,  the  depth 
and  dimensions  of  which  cannot  be  realized  by 
looking  into  it  from  the  bank  above.  A  walk  of 
half  or  three-quarters  of  a  mile  brought  us  to 
the  lava  floor.  What,  from  above,  appears  an 
almost  level  surface,  proves  to  be  rough  and  bil- 
lowy, as  if  a  sea  of  molten  iron  had  rolled  up  in 
huge  waves  and  cooled  upon  the  gravelly  shore. 
Stepping  upon  the  adamantine  surface,  we 
advanced  over  this  floor,  rifted  into  a  thousand 
tortuous  forms,  and  crossing  deep  chasms  and 
seams  varying  from  six  inches  to  four  feet  in 
width  and  of  unknown  depth,  towards  the  Sty- 
gian lake  in  the  center,  passing  cones  and  pin- 
nacles of  lava,  thrown  up,  sometimes  in  ridges, 
like  a  mountain  chain,  sometimes  in  isolated 
singleness.  One  remarkable  representation  bore 
a  strong  resemblance  to  a  chapel  in  ruins,  with 
its  towers  and  pinnacles  still  standing  and  look- 
ing as  if  scared  and  blasted  by  fire.  To  this 
the  guides  had  appropriately  given  the  name  of 
"  Pele's  Church." 

The  day  declined ;  but  long  before  we  came  to 
the  brim  of  the  abyss,  we  were  made  aware  of  its 
activity  by  the  noise  of  the  terrible  cauldron. 
Language  can  hardly  describe  what  may  be  said 
to  be  indescribable.  For  the  last  half  century 


312  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

travelers  have  at  various  times  visited  the ( 'Crater  of 
Kilauea  "  and  hardly  any  two  visitors  have  agreed 
in  their  description.  This  is  not  strange,  either, 
for  this  ever-burning  and  unquenchable  lake,  this 
awful  valve  for  the  pent-up  flames  of  the  globe's 
center,  is  ever  changeful  in  aspect,  ever  grand, 
mysterious,  terrible ! 

On  the  night  of  our  visit,  the  surface  of  the 
lake  appeared  to  be  about  forty  feet  below  the 
rim  on  which  we  stood,  which  rim,  or  bank, 
seemed  to  be  of  calcerous  matter  mixed  with 
lava  and  of  exceedingly  irregular  formation.  As 
we  stood  facing  the  northeast,  from  the  rifts  and 
chasms  of  a  depression  on  our  right,  masses  of 
sulphurous  vapors  arose  and  along  with  the 
clouds  of  smoke  from  the  burning  lake  were 
swept  away  to  the  northward. 

On  our  left  hand  the  bank  rose  into  a  cliff 
some  fifty  feet  higher  than  the  level  of  the  rim 
elsewhere.  Part  of  this  cliff,  or  precipice,  had 
broken  off  some  few  weeks  previous  to  our  visit 
and  fallen  into  the  lake  ;  the  part  remaining  had, 
from  a  stand-point  a  little  to  the  right,  the  severe 
outline  of  a  human  face  gazing  down  into  the 
boiling  cauldron,  whose  flaming  surface  cast  upon 
it,  through  the  gloom  of  the  night,  a  spectral 
illumination,  as  of  a  lava  Sphynx.  The  lava 
flood  was,  with  slight  interruptions  of  a  few  min- 
utes, in  continual  action  during  the  five  hours 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  313 

that  we  remained.  Around  the  whole  edge  of 
the  lake,  where  the  lava  impinged  against  the 
bank,  a  circle  of  sheeted  flame  and  molten  fire 
glowed  with  intense  brilliancy,  and  like  a  bright 
belt,  encircled  the  black  island  in  the  centre ; 
while  every  few  minutes,  in  one  or  the  other  part 
of  the  surface,  the  lava  cauldron  would  commence 
to  heave  in  fiery  throes,  momentarily  accelerating 
in  force,  propelling  the  jets  of  crimson  metal  or 
lava  in  cascades  up  to  the  height  of  ten,  twenty, 
thirty  feet,  indeed,  often  higher  than  the  bank  on 
which  we  stood.  These  fiery  jets  would  run,  one 
into  another,  until  frequently  as  many  as  six  or 
eight  were  in  furious  action  together,  when  their 
united  power  would  suddenly  open  a  blazing 
seam  across  the  blackened  surface  of  the  lake, 
which  cooled  quickly  after  each  convulsion. 
And  then  the  liquid  flood,  released  from  the 
hardening  crust  that  kept  it  down,  would  roll  in 
flaming  combers  across  the  whole  surface  of  the 
lake  and  dash  itself  upon  the  Stygian  shore. 

For  five  hours  we  remained,  gazing  mute 
and  awe-struck  on  this  magnificent  scene.  High 
in  the  air  a  tropic  bird  floated  slowly  across  the 
heavens,  the  flames  of  the  crater  gilding  him 
like  a  meteor.  Our  blankets  were  unpacked, 
and  refreshments  taken,  after  which  one  of  our 
ladies — Miss  Charles,  of  Hornelsville,  N.  Y. — 
sang  the  songs  of  home  and  Fatherland.  Never, 


314  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  think,  was  "Sweet  Home"  sang  to  such  an 
accompaniment — the  music  of  woman's  voice,  at 
what  might  appropriately  be  termed  the  very 
vestibule  of  Hell,  while  above  and  around 

' '  Fiercely  the  spires  of  volcanic  fires 
Steam  on  the  sulphurous  air.  " 

As  the  night  advanced  the  activity  of  the  vol- 
cano increased ;  but  the  surface  of  the  lake 
seemed  to  lower  somewhat  during  our  stay — 
this  was  not  unlikely;  tourists  at  different  times 
have  found  its  elevation  variable,  sometimes  a 
hundred  feet  down,  sometimes  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  bank.  We  judged  it  to  be  about  forty 
feet  down,  and  it  certainly  appeared  to  recede 
somewhat  during  our  stay. 

Once  or  twice  the  momentary  shifting  of  the 
wind  blew  the  suffocating  vapor  partially  upon 
us,  and  an  immediate  retreat  was  necessary ;  it 
was,  however,  but  momentary.  The  contingency 
of  a  change  of  wind  blowing  strongly  upon  the 
visitor  when  partially  asleep,  or  dozing,  seems  to 
be  the  greatest  source  of  danger,  but  no  casualty 
of  that  kind  has  ever  occurred. 

The  banks  of  the  lake  are  more  or  less  covered 
with  a  fibrous  substance,  somewhat  resembling 
threads  of  flax,  and  brittle  as  spun  glass ;  it 
appears  upon  the  lava  boulders  like  cobwebs. 
The  appropriate  name  given  to  these  fibres, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  315 

found  so  near  the  abode  of  the  dread  divinity,  is 
"  Pele's  hair." 

Our  return  was  against  the  advice,  and  in 
spite  of  the  opposition  of  our  native  guides — who 
rather  dislike  tramping  the  floor  of  that  awful 
amphitheatre,  except  by  daylight.  The  night 
was  intensely  dark ;  we  started  in  Indian  file ; 
one  guide  preceding  us  with  a  lantern,  another  in 
the  center  of  the  column,  and  the  others  skirting 
the  flank  of  our  march ;  when  we  came  to  the 
chasms  and  difficult  points,  our  guides  would 
concentrate  and  light  us  over.  Only  in  one  or 
two  instances  did  they  diverge  from  the  safe 
path,  and  then  only  for  a  rod  or  two,  and  the 
trail  was  easily  found  again.  It  was  11:30  when 
we  started,  and  two  in  the  morning  when  we 
reached  the  little  grass  hut  dignified  by  the 
sounding  title  of  the  "Volcano  House" — thus 
occupying  two  and  a  half  hours  on  the  return. 

Tradition  and  the  observation  of  intelligent 
residents  of  the  Islands,  all  prove  that  the  vol- 
cano is  in  a  constant  transition  state,  sometimes 
more  active,  sometimes  less ;  although  for  the 
past  few  years  its  general  activity  has  undoubt- 
edly decreased,  notwithstanding  its  occasional 
fiery  outbursts.  An  old  gentleman  of  Maui,  who 
had  visited  it  thirty  years  before,  assured  me 
that  the  burning  lake  then  occupied  fully  one- 
sixth  of  the  whole  area  of  the  crater.  Estimates 


316  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  its  extent  vary  at  different  times — we  thought 
it  not  less  than  one  thousand  feet  in  diameter. 

The  dark  mythology  of  the  Hawaiians  has  in- 
vested this  appropriate  arena  with  additional 
horror;  it  is  the  dwelling-place  of  their  awful 
goddess,  Pele,  the  prime  divinity  of  their  Pan- 
theon ;  here,  in  company  with  her  subordinate 
demons,  she  bathed  and  disported  in  its  sulphur 
waves. 

Christian  courage  here  subdued  supernatural 
terror,  when,  in  1825,  the  converted  chieftainess, 
Kapiolaui,  braved  the  anger  of  the  goddess  and 
the  attendant  horrors  of  the  path  by  descending 
alone  into  the  crater,  and  casting  with  her  own 
hands,  into  the  seething  gulf,  the  sacred  berries, 
as  an  open  and  avowed  act  of  desecration. 

Our  party  spent  five  days  at  the  "  Crater  of 
Kilauea  "  and  our  return  to  Hilo  was  as  delight- 
ful a  ride,  as  our  departure  thence.  Mr.  Hitch- 
cock and  all  our  friends  rode  out  to  meet  us  on 
the  approach  to  the  pretty  town,  where  we  found 
another  plan  had  been  organized  for  a  grand  pic- 
nic up  the  Wailuku,  with  a  party  of  eleven, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  on  the  following  Wednes- 
day morning.  I  will  not  attempt  a  description  of 
that  ever-remembered  day,  or  of  the  surpassing 
loveliness  of  the  scenery  with  its  cascades  and 
torrents  ;  the  Rainbow  Fall  of  70  feet ;  the  Upper 
Fall,  a  grand  cascade  of  130  feet;  the  Pools,  or 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  317 

Bowls ;  the  Circular  Rainbow,  and  the  thousand 
natural  charms,  that  rival  in  beauty,  if  not  in 
grandeur,  Yosemite  itself  and  which,  if  known 
to  the  traveling  world,  would  throw  most  of  what 
is  now  known  far  into  the  shade.  In  order  to 
reach  the  proposed  point  for  our  picnic  ground,  it 
was  necessary  to  send  out  a  gang  of  natives  on 
the  previous  day  to  cut  a  path  with  Matchetes 
through  the  dense  undergrowth,  and  even  with 
this  preparation,  our  horses  were  with  difficulty 
forced  through  the  green  obstruction. 

The  Wailuku  falls  into  the  sea  a  little  north 
of  the  tpwn  of  Hilo,  and  the  southern  bank, 
which  is  at  this  point  a  verdure-covered  bluff  of 
sixty  feet  in  height,  was  a  favorite  bathing  place 
and  toward  evening  the  youth  of  both  sexes 
assembled  to  indulge  in  what  to  a  Hawaiian  is  a 
necessary  part  of  existence  :  with  shouts  of  mirth 
and  laughter  they  would  dive  or  jump  from  the 
cliff,  cutting  the  water  like  an  arrow,  and  some- 
times re-appearing  on  the  surface  three  or  four 
hundred  feet  from  where  they  made  their  plunge. 
I  think  that  in  this  lively  diving  and  swimming 
the  girls  were,  if  anything,  more  expert  than  the 
boys.  They  were  of  all  ages  from  eight  years  to 
sixteen,  and  all  quite  nude,  with  the  exception  of 
a  cloth  around  the  middle,  and  most  of  the  girls 
were  in  form  models  of  feminine  perfection ; 
what,  with  the  merriment,  and  shouting,  and 


318  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

leaping,  and  the  wonderful  aquatic  gymnastics > 
it  was  a  cheerful  and  pleasing  scene. 

In  the  charming  little  hamlet  of  Hilo,  there 
were,  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  about  fifty  white, 
or  as  they  were  generally  termed,  foreign  resi- 
dents, and  most  of  these  were  Americans.  I 
believe  that  I  was  the  first  actor,  that  ever  landed 
on  the  lava  strand,  which  fronts  that  little  town 
in  the  "  sun-down  "  sea  and  Mr.  Cony,  the  Sher- 
iff, Mr.  Hitchcock,  Mrs.  Capt.  Spencer  and  others 
had  determined  that  I  should  do  what  had  never 
been  done  in  Hilo — give  an  entertainment.  If  I 
had  been  disposed  to  offer  objections,  they  would 
certainly  have  been  out  of  place,  where  so  many 
courtesies  had  been  received.  To  be  sure,  I  had 
neither  books  nor  memoranda  to  draw  from,  but 
Mr.  Cony,  in  his  beautiful  little  cottage,  had  a 
well  selected  library,  which  was  at  my  disposal. 
I  was  told,  that  they  only  wanted  me  to  appear ; 
they  didn't  care  in  what,  or  what  I  did ;  they 
would  make  every  preparation  and  all  be  present 
to  honor  me. 

So,  in  a  beautiful  moonlight  evening,  I  walked 
down  the  little  tree-embowered  street,  and  saw 
through  the  foliage  the  picturesque,  white-painted 
school-house  (which  was  Court-house  as  well), 
gaily  lighted,  every  window  thrown  up  and  sur- 
rounded by  an  eager  crowd  of  natives,  and  the 
seats  within  occupied  by  every  American  lady 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  319 

and  gentleman,  with  their  children,  resident  in 
Hilo.  With  snch  an  audience  and  on  such  an 
occasion,  I  felt  like  doing  my  best. 

My  programme  for  the  evening  was  a  series  of 
recitations,  serious  and  comic,  and  the  reading 
of  the  fifth  act  of  "  Hamlet."  As  the  papers 
say,  my  audience  was  "  appreciative  and  enthu- 
siastic," and  the  Hawaiians  on  the  "  outside  " 
seats  greeted  the  comic  recitations  and  the  humors 
of  the  u  Gravediggers  "  with  unanimous  and 
hearty  applause.  A  charming  collation  at  the 
cottage  of  Mrs.  Capt.  Spencer  terminated  the 
evening,  where  Miss  Charles  sang  "  When  Stars 
are  in  the  Quiet  Sky  "  in  a  manner  to  make  it 
one  of  the  most  delightful  "  memories "  of  a 
series  never  to  be  effaced. 

Mr.  Cony  left  the  next  morning  at  an  early 
hour,  on  official  business,  for  Lapahoihoi ;  but  I 
found  an  envelope  to  my  address  with  a  gracious 
note  and  a  handsome  sum  in  current  gold  coin, 
the  voluntary  offering  of  friends  whose  kindness 
and  liberality  can  never  be  forgotten. 

On  the  evening  of  August  nth,  previous  to 
my  trip  to  the  Volcano,  I  gave  a  lecture  at 
the  Nuanee  Hall,  in  Honolulu — subject,  "  The 
Drama ;"  and  on  my  return,  upon  the  evening 
of  September  i6th,  a  "  Reading"  at  the  same 
place.  Both  of  these  entertainments  were  well 
attended. 


320  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

On  the  night  of  Monday,  the  i9th,  in  company 
with  several  American  gentlemen,  I  attended  by 
invitation  of  the  Hon.  David  Kalakaua — then 
Chamberlain  of  the  Palace  and  Postmaster-Gen- 
eral of  the  realm,  but  now  "his  Majesty  Kalakaua 
I,  King  of  the  Hawaiian  Islands" — a  grand 
"  Hula-hula,"  the  wild  native  dance,  which,  I 
think,  is  the  more  dear  to  the  Islanders  the  more 
it  is  proscribed. 

Mr.  Kalakaua  was  very  courteous  to  me  during 
my  visit  to  Honolulu ;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  him,  after  a  lapse  of  many  years,  on 
American  soil,  when  he  was  a  King.  I  think  in 
the  higher  rank  he  is,  as  he  was  in  the  lower,  a 
true  gentleman. 

On  Wednesday,  the  2ist,  I  bade  the  last  fare- 
well to  my  Island  friends,  and  left  the  charming 
Hawaiian  Islands,  where  I  had  spent  three 
months  among  the  pleasantest  of  a  long  life. 
And  full  of  happy  "  memories,"  I  arrived  in  San 
Francisco  on  Tuesday,  October  nth. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Home  and  Return  —  Mr.  Charles  Thorne,  Jr.  —  Mr.  George 
Pauncefort  —  Mr.  Louis  Aldrich  —  Mr.  Pierrepont  Thayer  — 
The  Marysville  Theatre  —  Opening  Address  —  Vestvali— 
Bandmann  —  Miss  Charlotte  Crampton  —  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Harry  Jackson  —  "The  Seven  Sisters"  —  Baker  —  Miss  Em- 
ily Thorne  —  Mr.  Edwin  Forrest  —  Isthmus  of  Nicaragua  — 
Sharks  —  Fourth  of  July  at  Sea—  Mrs.  Sedley  Brown  —  The 
Enterprise  and  Boxer  —  Boston  Theatre  —  Mr.  Frank  Mayo 
—  IvOtta  —  Mr.  Bascomb  —  Mr.  J.  Scott  —  Mr.  Edward  I,. 
Davenport  —  Dora  —  Yosemite  —  Hon.  Mrs.  Yelverton. 


I  SAILED  from  San  Francisco  on  the 
of  October,  1864,  crossed  the  Isthmus  of 
Nicaragua  on  November  2d,  and  arrived  in  New 
York  on  the  i3th.  I  recall  the  anxiety  among 
the  passengers,  as  we  neared  the  end  of  the 
voyage,  respecting  the  result  of  the  presidential 
election,  and  I  think  I  won  a  small  bet  on  "the 
rail-splitter"  — 

"That  true-born  king  of  men." 

On  the  2ist  day  of  June,  1865,  I  again  started 
for  California  >  on  the  steamship  "Morning  Star," 


322  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

and  on  the  29th  we  passed  the  wreck  of  the 
"  Golden  Rule,"  stranded  on  Ran-cador,  in  the 
Caribbean  Sea.  I  had  made  the  voyage  from 
Greytown  to  New  York  in  the  "  Golden  Rule," 
and  felt  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  a  noble  ship,  and 
some  I  knew  on  board.  We  made  the  transit 
safely,  and  I  was  again  in  San  Francisco  on  July 
2ist,  1865.  After  a  vacation  of  nearly  a  year's 
duration,  I  re-appeared  at  the  Opera  House  on 
the  night  of  the  26th  as  u  Sergeant  Austerlitz." 

I  found  in  Mr.  Maguire's  company  at  that 
time  an  actor  with  whom  I  had  a  slight  acquaint- 
ance some  years  before,  and  who,  some  years 
later,  won  the  title,  and  maintained  it  to  his 
death,  of  being,  if  not  the  best,  certainly  among 
the  very  best  representatives  of  the  intense  emo- 
tional school,  which  has  to  some  extent  sup- 
planted the  older  methods — and  produces  its 
effects  more  by  what  it  refrains  from  doing  than 
by  what  it  does — not  but  that  Mr.  Thorne  could 
act  on  the  "  old  lines"  as  well,  but  he  adopted 
the  new  method  and  became  a  proficient  in  it. 
Of  a  manly  person  and  expressive  face,  and  with 
a  well-rounded  voice,  Mr.  Thorne  had  all  the  nat- 
ural qualifications  for  success — and  study,  aided 
by  good  judgment,  placed  him  eventually  at  the 
top  of  the  ladder.  I  was  his  professional  com- 
panion for  several  seasons  on  either  side  of  the 
continent,  and  recall  some  sad,  but  many  pleas- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  323 

ant   memories    of  a   deceased   friend  —  Charles 
Thome,  Jr. 

Mr.  George  Pauncefort  was  another  member  of 
the  Opera  House  Company  at  that  time.  Mr. 
Pauncefort  was  an  Englishman  of  a  peculiar 
temperament.  He  had  been,  I  think,  a  member 
of  the  Boston  Theatre  Company  with  Mr. 
Thomas  Barry,  and  remained  but  a  short  time  in 
California ;  long  enough,  however,  to  get  married 
to  Miss  B D ,  who  had  been  a  Cali- 
fornia actress  from  the  early  days.  After  many 
years,  Mr.  Pauncefort  was  heard  from,  traveling 
through  the  wilds  of  Washington  Territory  with 
a  horse  and  wagon,  giving  itinerant  performances 
all  by  himself;  and  still  later  I  read  an  account 
of  his  turning  up  as  an  Eastern  potentate  away 
off  in  Syria  or  Asia  Minor,  with  a  Harem,  and 
Chibouks,  and  all  the  surroundings  of  a  Persian 
Caliph.  Mr.  Louis  Aldrich  was  another  member 
of  Mr.  Maguire's  Company.  I  can  hardly  call 
him  an  Old-Californian,  though  he  is  not  so 
young,  as  when  one  of  the  famous  "Marsh 
Troupe."  He  used  to  astonish  the  people  by  the 
exhibition  of  talents  far  beyond  the  "juvenile  " 
order.  Mr.  Aldrich  was  a  good  actor  then — I 
mean,  when  I  met  him  in  1865 — he  is  a  better 
one  now  and  deserves  the  good  fortune  he  has 
achieved  with  a  successful  play,  the  principal 
character  of  which  is,  in  his  hands,  a  fine  dram- 


324  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

atic  portrait.  Although  not  a  member  of  the 
"  Young  Men's  Christian  Association,"  he  has 
many  Christian  virtues.  I  hope  he  may  live 
long  and  prosper  to  the  end. 

I  also  found  Mr.  Pierrepont  Thayer  with  Mr. 
Maguire  at  that  time.  This  gentleman  was,  I 
believe,  a  native  of  Boston,  possessed  of  much 
capability  for  the  stage,  and,  but  for  an  unhappy 
tendency  competent  to  make  an  honorable  record 
as  an  actor,  he  had  fallen  away  and  resolved, 
again  fallen  away  and  re-resolved  so  often,  that 
his  best  friends  could  see  no  other  end  than  that 
which  eventually  came.  A  few  years  later,  this 
gentleman's  lifeless  body  was  found,  and,  tying 
on  the  table  near  by,  a  paper,  on  which,  in  his 
own  handwriting,  were  these  words  :  u  I  test  the 
problem." 

What  problem  ?  of  existence  ?  Life  and  death, 
though  mysteries,  are  facts  and  not  problems — 
of  existence  hereafter  ?  It  would  seem,  that  the 
mind  of  that  man,  who  would  test  the  problems 
of  future  existence  or  non-existence  by  self-im- 
mutation  must  be  warped  by  insanity.  I  believe 
that  poor  Pierrepont  Thayer  was  insane. 

On  the  1 6th  of  August,  the  New  Theatre  in 
Marysville,  a  handsome  and  commodious  build- 
ing, was  opened  by  Mr.  Maguire  with  the  com- 
pany from  the  San  Francisco  Opera  House.  The 
opening  address  for  the  occasion  was  from  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  325 

pen  of  Mr.  Walter  M.  Letnan  and  beautifully 
spoken  by  Miss  Sophie  Edwin.  A  few  extracts 
are  appended:— 

Where  erst  a  few  months  back,  devouring  fire 
Made  of  the  Muses'  Fane  a  funeral  pyre, 
Whose  tongues  of  flame  shot  madly  forth  on  high, 
Mounting  fantastic  to  the  midnight  sky 
And  sending  thence  their  red  reflection  down, 
Like  a  volcano,  o'er  the  sleeping  town  ; 
To  the  proud  duty,  which  he  knows  so  well — 
Starting  the  fireman  by  the  alarum-bell ; 
Here,  where  the  prosperous  city  spreads  amain 
With  living  energy  athwart  the  plain  ; 
Here,  where  its  busy  marts  and  crowded  streets 
Show  how  the  healthful  pulse  of  commerce  beats 
'Mongst  pleasant  homes,  by  Yuba's  golden  sands, 
Our  new-born  temple  of  the  Drama  stands. 
Perfect  in  structure,  radiant  to  the  view, 
To  virtue  dedicated — and  to  you. 
#**,*•*•£•* 
Friends  of  the  Sage,  upholders  of  its  laws, 
The  suppliant  Drama  brings  to  you  her  cause  ; 
.     While  to  the  Drama's  teachings  we  are  true, 
Her  cause,  before  the  curtain — rests  with  you. 
If  you  shall  nod,  or  give  approving  smile, 
To  prurient  actions,  or  to  words  of  guile, 
Oh,  you  and  us  shall  be  the  double  sin  ; 
But  if  with  wisdom's  maxims  we  shall  win, 
And  mould  your  plastic  sympathies  of  soul 
With  Thalia's  mask — or  with  Melpomene's  bowl — 
To  acts  of  truth,  and  virtue's  true  regard, — 
To  you  and  us  shall  be  the  full  reward. 
And  here  the  weary  hours  shall  you  beguile 
'Neath  the  bright  radiance  of  woman's  smile — 
And  when  your  labor's  done,  at  evening  hour, 
Own  the  full  influence  of  her  magic  power. 


326  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Here  shalt  the  Drama's  glass  to  you  impart 
The  dark  recesses  of  the  human  heart, 
And  show  the  silver-lining  to  the  eye 
That  gilds  the  clouds  of%human  frailty. 
Old  Lear,  in  accents  wild  shall  rend  the  air 
With  the  loud  wailings  of  his  blank  despair ; 
Hamlet,  the  heavens  majestic  roof  shall  scan, 
And  show  you — "  What  a  piece  of  work  is  man  !" 
Here  Juliet  shall  barb  Love's  quivering  dart 
And  send  the  shaft  to  Romeo's  bleeding  heart ; 
And  Lady  Teazle,  with  her  scandalous  school, 
Hold  poor  Sir  Peter  up  to  ridicule. 

And  Rosalind  in  masculine  bravery 

Lead  young  Orlando  to  a  willing  slavery. 

And  here  your  hearts  shall  pay  the  ready  boon 

Of  pity  for  the  hapless  Octoroon  ; 

And  be  again  with  grief  and  sorrow  torn 

For  the  confiding,  artless,  Colleen  Bawn. 

When  floats  the  black-flag  on  the  scenic  breeze — 

Here  mimic  Farraguts  shall  sweep  the  seas  ; 

And  in  new  battles  for  the  rights  of  man 

New  Grants  and  Shermans  lead  the  glorious  van, 

Along  with  Hooker  bold — and  gallant  Sheridan. 

And  here  shall  drop  the  willing  tear  for  those 

Who  died  to  assuage  their  struggling  country's  woes, 

As  the  just  Lincoln  fell  amid  his  bloody  foes. 

In  September  we  were  all  back  to  the  Bay 
City,  where  "Vestvali,"  of  whom  much  was 
expected,  made  her  first  appearance  before  a 
"Pacific"  audience.  Mile.  Felicita  Vestvali  had 
been  a  notability  in  opera  in  the  Old  World,  but 
abandoned  the  lyric  stage  when  she  came  before 
the  public  in  the  New.  She  was  a  lady  of  pon- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  327 

derous  proportions  and  moderate  talent,  and 
made  little  or  no  impression. 

In  October,  Mr.  Daniel  E.  Bandmann,  who  was 
announced  as  "  the  great  Anglo-German  Trage- 
dian, appeared  and  played  on  alternate  nights 
with  Vestvali — and  Mr.  Bandmann's  impression 
was  like  Vestvali's.  I  presume  that  this  arrange- 
ment was  made  in  order  that  the  public  might 
have  forty-eight  hours  to  get  over  "  Vestvali " 
and  forty-eight  to  recover  from  "  Bandmann." 
Fortunately,  there  was  no  epidemic. 
•  In  the  latter  part  of  December,  while  at  re- 
hearsal, a  lady  clad  in  plain  attire,  plain  almost 
to  the  verge  of  poverty,  if  appearances  were  a 
true  indication,  strolled  through  the  front  en- 
trance of  the  Opera  House  and  sat  down  in  the 
rear  of  the  pit.  I  thought  that  her  face  seemed 
familiar;  all  wondered  who  she  was  and  why 
she  was  there.  Being  accosted  as  to  her  busi- 
ness— she  wished  to  see  the  manager,  and  the 
manager  appearing,  the  lady  announced  herself 
as  Miss  Charlotte  Crampton. 

I  was  not  wrong  in  thinking  I  had  seen  that 
face.     Charlotte  Crampton,  nee  Wilkinson,  nee 

,  had  turned  up  in  San  Francisco,  utterly 

unheralded  and  unknown ;  from  where  I  never 
heard — by  what  means  of  conveyance  I'  never 
knew ;  and  during  the  short  and  fitful  engage- 
ment of  three  or  four  nights,  I  hardly  think  any 


328  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

one  knew  from  whence  she  had  come  or  whither 
she  was  going. 

She  was  engaged  instanter,  for  there  were 
many  in  the  theatre  who  knew  her  wonderful 
ability ;  a  proper  costume  was  spoken  for — for 
she  absolutely  had  nothing  in  the  way  of  ward- 
robe—  and  on  the  evening  of  the  27th  she 
appeared  as  "  Margaret  Elmore,"  and  electrified 
the  audience  with  her  wonderful  feeling  and 
power.  "Hamlet"  was  the  next  character,  and 
rarely  had  a  more  philosophical  Shakespearean 
Prince  of  Denmark  been  seen. 

The  way  was  open  to  favor — to  success — to 
more,  perhaps  to  fortune — one  other  appearance 
— "  Marguerite  of  Burgundy,"  in  "  La  Tour  de 
Nesle,"  when— Fate!  Shall  I  call  it  "fate?" 
No;  folly  is  a  better  term — "Folly"  assumed 
its  baleful  power,  and  all  was  lost.  The  lady 
appeared  no  more. 

In  the  cast  of  "  Love's  Sacrifice  "  I  remember 
the  names  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harry  Jackson.  This 
popular  couple  had  lately  come  from  the  Austra- 
lian Colonies.  Mrs.  Jackson,  nee  Annie  Lock- 
hart,  was  a  fine  actress  in  parts  requiring  pathos 
and  Harry  Jackson  was  a  good  character  actor, 
especially  in  the  line  of  Jews  and  "  rustic " 
ruffians.  The  lady  had  a  sad  experience  in  Cal- 
ifornia and  died  some  time  after  in  Salt  Lake 
City.  Mr.  Jackson  went  to  London  in  the  month 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.        ,      329 

of  July,  1885.  I  dined  with  him  at  his  handsome 
residence  on  Russell  street,  Bloomsbury,  said 
good-bye  with  a  promise  to  see  him  as  soon  as  I 
got  back  to  London  and  returned  in  three  months 
from  the  Continent  to  find  him — dead!  Sad 
"  memories  "  of  both. 

And  Harry  Courtaine  !  What  "  memory  "  of 
him  ?  Courtaine,  until  he  had  willfully  spoiled 
himself — the  capable,  facile,  versatile,  admirable 
Actor!  Courtaine!  By  his  willful  spoliation  of 
himself — the  vascillating,  unrespected,  degraded, 
unmanly  man  !  I  saw  him,  too,  in  London — on 
the  strand — once,  twice,  thrice!  and  he  was — 
Courtaine!  swayed  and  ruled — not  by  Fate,  not 
by  fatality,  but  worse — by  folly  and  by  madness. 

In  the  spring  of  1866  the  "  Extravaganza"  of 
the  "  Seven  Sisters  "  was  produced,  mainly  for 
the  purpose  of  introducing  a  new  third  act, 
which,  at  the  request  of  the  management,  I  had 
written  under  the  title  of — "  An  Allegory  of  the 
Union."  This  sketch  embodied  a  series  of  sym- 
bolic tableaux — illustrated  by  dialogue,  in  which 
"  Columbia,"  the  "  Genius  of  Liberty,"  "  Uncle 
Sam  "  and  all  the  "  States  "  took  part.  In  this 
dialogue  ''Massachusetts"  and  u South  Carolina" 
were  the  principal  talkers  and  "  Uncle  Sam " 
had  hard  work  to  keep  them  apart,  even  with  the 
threat  of  a  spanking.  Sophie  Edwin  was  the 


33O  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

"  Massachusetts,"  Aggie  Perry  the  "  South  Car- 
olina "  and  Walter  M.  Leman  the  u  Uncle  Sam." 
It  ran  sixteen  nights. 

In  the  text  of  "  Uncle  Sam's"  part  in  the 
"  Allegory  of  the  Union "  was  the  following 
apostrophe  to  Baker,  the  last  line  of  which  is  a 
repetition  of  his  closing  apostrophe  to  Broderick 
in  the  funeral  oration  delivered  on  the  plaza  in 
San  Francisco,  when  Broderick  was  slain  by 
Terry  :- 

And  thou  ! 

The  Soldier-Senator  of  spirit  proud, 
Whose  manly  form  ' '  wrapped  in  a  bloody  shroud  ' ' 
Will  soon,  alas  ! — "  lie  dead  within  our  midst.  " 
What  thy  heart  bravely  thoiight,  thou  bravely  didst ; 
Thy  clarion  voice,  upon  Potomac 's  shore 
Was  hushed — thy  eagle  eyes  will  glance  no  more  ! 
Farewell  !     Thy  race  is  run  ;  thy  course  is  spent. 
Baker,  farewell  !     Thou  ' '  Old  Man  Eloquent !' ' 
The  grief,  that  chokes  my  words, 
Thy  words  may  truest  tell ; 
Brave  heart !  Good  friend  !  True  hero  ! 
Hail  and  farewell  ! 

On  the  28th  of  March,  the  "  School  for  Scan- 
dal "  was  played  for  the  writer's  benefit,  on 
which  occasion  Miss  Emily  Thorne  appeared  as 
"  Lady  Teazle."  This  lady  is  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  the  American  family  of  Thespians 
of  the  same  name.  The  press  differed  in  their 
estimate  of  her  abilities.  Of  her  kindness  I 
entertain  a  lively  "  memory. "  I  had  the  pleasure 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  331 

of  meeting  Miss  Thorne  in  London  in  1885,  after 
a  lapse  of  twenty  years.  She  is  now  a  member 
of  Poole's  Company  in  that  city  and  a  great 
favorite. 

On  Monday  evening,  May  i4th,  Edwin  Forrest 
made  his  first  appearance  in  California  as  "  Ri- 
chelieu." In  the  fourth  chapter  of  this  work,  I 
have  spoken  of  my  earlier  acquaintance  with 
this  distinguished  gentleman  and  touched  upon 
the  adverse  surroundings  of  his  visit  to  the 
Pacific  Coast.  I  think  that  to  ill-health,  more 
especially  than  to  any  other  cause,  may  be 
attributed  his  failure.  His  engagement  was 
shortened  for  that  reason  and  he  did  not  play 
in  the  state  outside  of  San  Francisco.  Mr. 
Forrest  was  supported  by  Mr.  John  McCullough, 
and  as  a  female  second  he  brought  with  him 
Miss  Lilly.  Mr.  McCullough  will  long  be 
remembered.  Miss  Lilly  was  instantly  forgotten. 

On  Tuesday,  June  i5th,  I  sailed  for  the  third 
time  from  San  Francisco,  bound  to  New  York, 
and  had  for  fellow  passengers  several  professional 
associates.  An  incident  which  occurred  on  the 
Nicaraguan  Isthmus  is  worthy  of  mention.  Either 
the  San  Juan  River  was  at  a  lower  stage  than 
usual,  or  our  stern-wheeler  drew  more  water  than 
usual,  for  on  going  down  that  sluggish  tropical 
stream  we  were  frequently  aground,  and  several 
times  the  little  steamer  touched  at  the  bank 


332  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

where  portages  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so, 
would  be  made  to  the  next  stopping  place.  A 
large  number  of  the  male  passengers  availed 
themselves  of  these  opportunities  to  foot  it  from 
point  to  point  through  the  dense  woods,  where 
superabundant  vegetation  wreathed  the  trunks  of 
the  great  trees  with  a  living  green  to  their  sum- 
mit, and  monkeys  leaped  from  branch  to  branch, 
chattering  and  mowing  at  the  unusual  presence 
of  man.  The  paths  were  rough  ones,  and  often 
crossed  muddy  little  inlets,  with  a  rail  or  branch 
laid  across  to  assist  one  in  getting  over.  There 
was  a  general  desire  to  make  the  short  transits 
as  quickly  as  possible,  to  be  in  time  for  the  boat, 
and  the  intense  heat  made  these  walks  in  the 
wilds  of  Central  America,  short  though  they 
were,  very  fatiguing,  but  still  it  was  a  novel  ex- 
perience and  enjoyable  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
comfort. As  Mr.  Thorne  and  myself  were  getting 
over  one  of  these  inlets,  rather  larger  than  the 
rest,  leading  to  a  small  lagoon  a  short  distance 
from  the  river,  we  were  astounded  by  a  tremend- 
ous splash  within  six  feet,  and  a  shark  six 
or  seven  feet  long  pushed  his  head  and  a  third  of 
his  ugly  body  out  of  the  water,  half  turning 
over  in  the  act,  and  wallowing  in  the  muddy 
stream.  I  think  that  if  he  could  have  got  near 
enough  to  our  legs  or  feet  for  a  bite,  he'd  have 
taken  it ;  •  it  was  a  rather  startling  and  not  very 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  333 

pleasant  acquaintance.  We  were  amazed  to  see 
a  shark  in  a  fresh-water  stream  ;  but  these  raven- 
ous salt-sea  monsters  go  up  the  San  Juan  River 
constantly,  as  far  as  the  Machucha  Rapids,  for 
"  plunder  and  prey." 

On  Wednesday,  the  Fourth  of  July,  we  were 
off  the  Island  of  Cuba,  and  had  a  celebration  of 
the  holiday,  with  the  "  Santiago  de  Cuba  "  decked 
in  flags  and  streamers.  The  programme  in- 
cluded— 

"  Reading  of  Declaration  of  Independence," 

MR.  HARRY  WAU,. 
Song — "  Flag  of  our  Union,"  .    .  MRS.  SEDLEY  BROWN. 

Address REV.  MR.   ELY. 

Poem — "Our  Country," MR.  W.  M.  ICEMAN. 

"  Drake's  address  to  the  American  Flag,  " 

MR.  CHARLES  THORNE,  JR. 

We  wound  up  that  u  Independence  Day  "  with 
song  and  dance  at  night. 

While  o'er  the  seas  the  tropic  breeze 

Drove  on  our  rapid  keel — 
With  favoring  gale  and  swelling  sail, 

And  swift  revolving  wheel. 

Mrs.  Sedley  Brown  is  the  daughter  of  my  old 
associate  and  manager  in  the  early  days,  Mr. 
W.  H.  Smith,  who  was  well-known  to  the  public 
on  both  slopes  of  the  Union.  She  had  been  in 
California  but  a  short  time,  but  has  visited  it 
often  since.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  her  company 


334  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

in  1884,  at  my  home  in  San  Francisco ;  she  was 
then  a  member  of  Wallack's  Company,  a  part  of 
whom  were  playing  there  at  the  time.  I  believe 

that  Mrs.  Brown  is  now  the  widow  of  Mr.  

Smith,  a  son  of  another  old  manager,  who  has  been 
mentioned  in  previous  pages — Mr.  Sol.  Smith. 
Mrs.  Sedley  Brown  is  a  trne  and  good  woman, 
and  an  excellent  actress ;  with  pride  I  rank  her 
among  my  friends.  I  arrived  in  New  York  on 
the  8th  of  July,  and  was  greeted  with  intelligence 
of  the  disastrous  fire  that  had  swept  away  one- 
half  of  the  city  of  Portland,  Maine.  I  read  with 
painful  interest  the  newspaper  accounts  of  how 
that  conflagration  "  burnt  back  "  against  the 
wind  for  a  mile  and  a  quarter  from  the  point  where 
it  started,  to  the  very  base  of  the  u  Old  Observa- 
tory," which,  sixty  years  ago  stood,  perhaps  now 
stands,  on  "  Mount  Joy."  I  used  to  roam  all 
round  about  that  vicinity,  while  studying  my 
"  parts  "  in  those  long-gone  days,  and  into  the 
old  cemetery,  where  side  by  side  lie  Burroughs 
and  Blythe,  the  American  and  English  naval 
heroes  of  the  sanguinary  fight  between  the  "  En- 
terprise "  and  "  Boxer,"  enemies  in  war,  reposing 
in  amity  in  the  peace  of  the  grave.  I  recall  a 
distich  that  the  patriotic  gamins  of  "  Bunker  Hill 
Town  "  (as  Charlestown  was  often  called  when  I 
was  a  boy) ,  used  to  sing  about  that  sea-fight — 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  335 

"  At  length  you  sent  your  '  Boxer' 

To  box  us  all  about ; 
We  had  an  '  Enterprising  '  Brig 
That  beat  your  '  Boxer '  out. 

She  boxed  her  up  to  Portland 

And  moored  her  off  the  Town 
To  show  those  sons  of  liberty 

This  'Boxer'  of  renown." 

But  this  is  digression.  On  landing,  I  was 
immediately  met  by  Mr.  J.  B.  Booth,  Jr.,  then 
connected  with  Messrs.  Tomkins  and  Thayer  in 
the  management  of  the  "  Boston  Theatre,"  and 
engaged  for  that  establishment,  to  commence 
with  the  opening  in  August. 

When  the  company  assembled  in  the  green- 
room, preparatory  to  the  first  night,  it  was  in 
truth  called  a  "California  crowd,"  no  less  than 
seven  of  its  members — nearly  one-half — hailing 
from  the  Golden  State.  Bulwer's  comedy  of 
"  Money  "  was  the  opening  "bill;"  Mr.  Frank 
Mayo  was  the  "  Evelyn  ;"  Mrs.  Agnes  Perry,  the 
"  Clara  Douglas,"  and  Mr.  Leman,  the  "Sir  John 
Vesey  "  of  the  cast. 

I  have  heretofore  spoken  of  Mr.  Frank  Mayo. 
He  commenced  his  professional  career,  I  think, 
in  California.  I  remember  him  first  in  the 
"American  Theatre,"  San  Francisco,  during  my 
engagement  with  Julia  Dean  Hayne.  He  played 
with  us  later,  in  the  "  Union  Theatre,"  rose  rap- 
idly, went  East,  and  made  a  phenomenal  hit  in 


336  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Boston  in  the  part  of  "  Badger,"  in  the  "  Streets 
of  New  York."  From  that  time  his  career  has, 
I  believe,  been  a  highly  successful  one.  The 
play  of  "  David  Crockett  "  made  a  great  deal  of 
money  for  Mr.  Mayo,  and  he  now  has  a  new  play, 
entitled  "  Nordeck,"  which  is  reported  to  me  by 
those  who  have  seen  it,  as  being  one  of  the  best 
American  plays  yet  written.  Frank  Mayo  is  a 
handsome,  stalwart  man  and  an  actor  of  whom 
California  may  be  proud.  He  resides,  when  at 
home,  somewhere  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania. 

In  writing  these  desultory  reminiscences  of  a 
long  theatrical  career,  the  use  of  the  "  first  per- 
son, singular,"  becomes  perhaps  too  often,  a  nec- 
essity. I  have  simply  endeavored  to  keep  the 
record  consecutively,  so  far  as  I  am  personally 
concerned,  without  referring  to  what  perhaps 
partial  friends  have  said  respecting  myself;  but 
I  confess  that  if  I  were  tempted  to  transgress  the 
rule  of  a  becoming  modesty  with  regard  to  any 
period  of  the  more  than  fifty  years  in  which  I 
was  in  theatrical  harness,  the  three  and  a  half 
years  which  I  spent  with  my  old  Boston  friends 
would  be  the  time,  but  I  forbear. 

Among  the  stars  of  the  first  season,  I  remem- 
ber Mr.  Edwin  Booth,  who  played  a  long  and 
brilliant  engagement ;  Mrs.  Scott-Siddons,  Miss 
Kate  Reynolds,  Mrs.  Lander,  Mr.  Forrest,  Lotta 
and  others. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  337 

Lotta,  thou  midget  !  come  into  my  mirror  of 
memory  as  I  first  saw  thee,  away  up  in  the  foot- 
hills, at  lone  City  —  was  it  ?  Yes,  I  think  it  was 
at  lone  City.  I  forget  the  county,  but  the  State 
was  California.  A  little  girl  with  a  banjo,  which 
thou  did'st  play  with  grace  and  skill,  hopping 
and  skipping  and  kicking  —  how  thou  did'st  kick 
—  at  everybody  and  everything,  and  when  there 
was  nothing  else  to  kick  at,  thou  would'st  kick 
out  into  space  ;  how  thou  did'st  squirm  and  do  a 
"  walk-around,"  and  do  all  with  an  impunity  and 
a  vim  that  defied  all  opposition  and  criticism,  for 
thou  wast  bright  and  merry,  and  everybody  loved 
to  see  thee,  laugh  at  thy  capers,  enjoy  thy  fun, 
and  toss  into  thy  lap  the  coins  and  nuggets  of 
the  land  of  gold. 

Miss  Charlotte  Crabtree  (Lotta)  had  grown 
older  but  not  much  bigger  than  in  the  California 
era,  and  though  her  acting,  judged  from  an  artis- 
tic standpoint,  did  not  call  for  much  comment, 
she  was  always  pleasing  and  wonderfully  attract- 
ive. The  idea  of  Lotta  being  serious  in  any- 
thing, seemed  an  absurdity,  and  yet  in  "  Little 
Nell  "  she  was  serious,  and  played  with  feeling  ; 
but  she  was  born  to  make  us  laugh,  and  not  to 
weep,  and  she  has  fulfilled  and  is  fulfilling  her 
mission.  John  Brougham  called  her  a  "  dramatic 
cocktail,"  for  the  following  reason  — 


338  Memories  of  an   Old  Actor. 

Because  in  Lotta  we  can  see 

Artistic  concentration 
Of  sweetness,  strength  and  piquancy, 

A  pungent  combination. 

In  the  company  of  the  "  Boston  Theatre  "  was 
a  gentleman  who  subsequently  became  the  vic- 
tim of  a  terrible  calamity — Mr.  Henry  L.  Bas- 
comb.  I  had  known  his  father,  who  was  the 
landlord  of  the  "  Boylston  Hotel,"  which  stood 
upon  ground  now  occupied  by  the  magnifi- 
cent "  Parker  House,"  in  School  street.  The 
"  Boylston  "  was  a  great  Thespian  resort,  and 
was  the  legitimate  successor  of  the  "  Stackpole 
House,"  on  Milk  street,  and  "  Bradstreet's,"  on 
Atkinson  street,  where,  seventy-five  years  ago, 
Hodgkinson  and  Fennell  and  Snelling  Powell 
and  Barrett  and  Tom  Cooper  and  the  other 
worthies  of  the  old  Boston  stage  were  wont  to 
gather.  Mr.  Bascomb,  a  few  years  since,  lost 
both  of  his  feet  by  exposure  to  intense  cold.  It 
would  seem  as  if  his  was  a  case  that  demanded 
recognition  by  the  government  of  the  "  Forrest 
Home,"  but  I  do  not  know  that  it  was  ever 
brought  to  the  notice  of  the  trustees.  I  think 
that  he  now  holds  a  position  under  the  municipal 
government  of  Boston. 

Another  friend,  whom  I  shall  always  remem- 
ber— John  Scott — not  John  R.  Scott — not  as 
good  an  actor  as  was  John  R.  Scott — but  as  good 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  339 

a  man,  as  good  a  man  as  ever  lived  was  in  that 
company.  I  have  seen  that  old  friend  within  a 
twelve-month  in  his  happy  home,  near  Boston ; 
he  is  now  cashier  of  the  Dorchester  National 
Bank,  and  his  name  is  S.  J.  Willis.  The  name 
of  Scott  was  but  a  nom  de  theatre. 

Mr.  Edward  L.  Davenport,  one  of  the  finest 
actors  that  the  American  Stage  has  ever  known, 
played  a  very  successful  engagement.  I  had  never 
had  much  professional  association  with  this  gen- 
tleman since  the  third  or  fourth  year  of  the  old 
'Tremont" — with  the  exception  of  one  year  at 
the  Walnut  Street,  Philadelphia.  His  career  in 
England  had  been  a  prosperous  one,  and  there 
were  not  a  few  good  judges  who  thought  him, 
twenty-three  years  ago,  the  equal  of  any  trage- 
dian. There  was  no  man  who  so  closely  ap- 
proached the  grandeur  of  the  elder  Booth  in  the 
character  of  "Sir  Giles  Overreach"  as  E.  L. 
Davenport.  There  were  always  pleasant  ties  of 
personal  friendship  between  him  and  myself.  I 
honor  his  memory. 

During  the  first  season  at  the  "Boston,"  detach- 
ments of  the  company  played  occasionally  in 
some  eight  or  nine  different  towns  in  Massachu- 
setts ;  in  Providence  and  Newport,  in  the  State 
of  Rhode  Island ;  Hartford  and  New  Haven,  in 
Connecticut ;  Portland,  in  Maine ;  and  Albany 
and  Troy,  in  New  York.  And  during  the  two 


34-O  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

following  seasons  these  excursion  trips  were  re- 
peated, but  not  so  often.  They  were  pleasant  in 
many  respects,  for  they  gave  me  an  opportunity 
to  renew  old  friendships  and  revive  the  memories 
of  ulang  syne  ;})  and  sometimes  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  fun  extracted  from  them,  especially  when 
Charley  Thome  and  Louis  Aldrich  were  with  us 
— the  first  has  passed  away,  but  my  old  friend, 
Louis  Aldrich,  yet  lives,  and  he  will  recall  the 
merriment  (wicked  merriment,  sometimes)  that 
we  used  to  extract  from  a  much-married  man, 
now  deceased,  who  had  an  ardent  devotion  to  two 
objects:  his  black  bottle  and  his  "  little  wifey- 
pifey,"  as  he  called  her,  though  she  was  twice 
his  size,  and  always  got  the  better  in  their 
matrimonial  combats,  which  were  of  frequent 

occurrence.     Poor  J !     Well,    he    is    gone. 

Peace  to  his  memory  ! 

On  one  of  these  excursions  an  incident  oc- 
curred, which  has  drifted  into  the  newspapers 
as  happening  in  various  places,  but  which  really 
happened  in  the  city  of  Lowell,  Massachusetts. 
I  had  been  sent  up  from  Boston  with  Miss  Kate 
Reignolds  and  a  portion  of  the  company,  to  play 
"  Dora."  Mr.  Leslie,  the  deputy  manager,  hav- 
ing everything  to  attend  to,  had  neglected  to 
procure  the  little  child — which  is  a  very  impor- 
tant factor  in  the  interest  of  the  play ;  and  at  the 
last  moment  went  out  and  brought  in  a  great 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  341 

lubberly  boy  from  the  street,  with  dirty  clothes 
and  shoes,  uncombed  hair  and  unwashed  skin,  to 
represent  "  Dora's"  pretty  "  four-year-old." 

Miss  Reignolds  and  myself  protested  against 
sending  this  great  lubber  before  the  audience,  as 
he  was  sure  to  turn  the  whole  play  into  a  ridicu- 
lous burlesque.  But  Leslie  had  too  much  on  his 
hands  to  get  a  substitute,  and  Miss  Reignolds 
took  the  Infant  before  the  audience,  who  gazed 
in  wonder  and  astonishment.  As  "  Farmer 
Allan,"  I  had  to  take  the  child,  fondle  him,  and 
ask  his  age,  as  he  sat  upon  my  knee. 

With  the  hoodlum  standing  between  my  knees 
(I  couldn't  take  him  on  my  lap,  for  he  was  as 
big  as  his  mother),  and  the  audience  by  this 
time  in  unsuppressed  laughter,  I  yielded  to  the 
current  which  I  could  not  stem — and  instead  of 
saying,  "  How  old  are  you,  my  little  man  ?"  to 
which  question  the  child's  proper  answer  is, 
"  Four  years  old" — I  asked,  "And  how,  old  are 
you,  my  strapping  boy  ?"  to  which,  in  a  harsh, 
hesitating,  fish-market  voice,  he  answered,  "  Four 
— to-to  six."  "Forty-six!"  I  replied;  "You 
look  it,  my  boy — you  look  it !"  As  a  burlesque, 
"  Dora"  was  that  night  a  complete  success. 

The  little  drama  of  "  Dora  "  was  wonderfully 
popular;  during  a  series  of  summer  excursion 
trips,  combining  relaxation  with  business,  I  think 
Miss  Reignolds  and  myself  played  it  more  than 


342  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

half  the  time,  and  I  had  the  same  experience 
with  Miss  Ada  Gray.  The  regular  season  of 
1869  opened  on  the  2oth  of  September.  Bouci- 
cault's  play  of  "  Formosa  "  was  produced  and  fell 
flat  before  the  public,  which  was  not  strange,— 
for  certainly,  mighty  as  is  its  author's  name,  it  is 
but  a  common-place,  coarse  and  stupid  affair.  I 
made  a  final  tour  of  a  month's  duration,  among 
the  New  England  cities,  and  terminated  my 
engagement  at  the  Boston  Theatre  on  the  i2th 
of  February,  1870.  During  the  three  years,  in 
which  I  was  an  employee  of  Messrs.  Orlando 
Tomkins,  Benjamin  F.  Thayer  and  Junius  B. 
Booth,  Jr.,  not  an  unpleasant  word  or  occurrence 
ever  marred  our  friendly  feeling.  All  three  of 
these  gentlemen  are  dead. 

On  Monday,  the  I4th  of  February,  1870,  I  left 
Boston  on  my  fourth  trip  to  California,  and  this 
time  overland.  On  reaching  San  Francisco,  I 
found  there  my  friend,  Mr.  Thorne,  who,  like 
myself,  had  been  anxious  to  return  to  the  Pacific 
Coast.  Early  in  March  we  opened  at  the  Opera 
House  in  the  "  Three  Guardsmen."  Mr.  Mayo 
soon  after  came  out,  and  an  unsuccessful  season 
lingered  along  for  some  months,  against  the 
superior  attractions  of  the  "  California  Theatre," 
then  in  its  second  season  under  the  management 
of  Messrs.  McCullough  and  Barrett.  With 
Madame  Methua  Scheller  we  made  a  pleasant 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  343 

tour  in  the  interior.  This  lady  was  a  pleasing 
Anglo-German  actress,  who  played  in  comedy, 
drama  and  tragedy  with  less  force  than  the  Jan- 
auscheks  and  Modjeskas,  but  still  with  skill  and 
power.  She  fell  a  victim  to  the  cholera  a  few 
years  later,  while  playing  in  one  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River  towns.  I  withdrew  from  the  Opera 
House  on  the  advent  of  a  company  of  "  British 
Blonde  Beauties,"  as  they  were  termed  in  the 
bills,  and  on  the  yth  of  July  started,  in  company 
with  Professor  Wolcott  Gibbs  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, the  Rev.  Clarence  Bddy,  S.  N.  Roberts, 
Esq.,  of  Boston,  and  three  ladies  for  Yosemite 
Valley.  At  Stockton,  our  party  was  augmented 
by  a  gentleman  and  his  sister,  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, making  us  nine  in  number.  It  is  not  my 
purpose  to  enter  into  a  description  of  the  wonders 
and  beauties  and  sublimities  of  Yosemite,  with 
which  the  world  has  already  been  made  familiar. 
Five  years  before  that  time,  with  San  Francisco 
two  hundred  miles  distant  and  the  great  plain  of 
the  San  Joaquin  intervening,  with  but  a  few 
towns  and  villages  scattered  over  its  vast  expanse, 
there  seemed  little  probability  of  the  rushing 
army  of  civilization  reaching  the  Yosemite  by 
any  other  method  than  the  tortuous  bridle  path, 
which  our  party  took  soon  after  leaving  Mariposa. 
In  1865,  only  147  tourists  visited  Yosemite  Val- 
ley ;  in  1869,  the  year  before  our  visit,  when  the 


344  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Overland  Road  had  been  completed,  1122  tour- 
ists registered  as  visitants.  I  believe  that  I  was 
the  second  "  actor,"  who  ever  stood  npon  the 
grassy  floor  of  Yosemite,  Mr.  Joseph  Proctor 
being  the  first. 

While  it  is  not  my  intention,  as  I  have  already 
said,  to  describe  a  Yosemite,"  I  will  briefly  speak 
of  an  adventure,  which  occurred  to  us  while  en- 
route  : — As  I  have  stated,  our  party  selected  the 
Mariposa  Route  to  the  valley,  as  a  portion  of 
them  wished  also  to  visit  the  Mariposa  Grove  of 
Big  Trees.  This  motive  had  no  weight  with  me, 
however,  as  I  was  already  familiar  with  these 
monarchs  of  the  forest — having,  while  with  Bu- 
chanan, played  one  act  of  the  comedietta  of 
"  Used  Up  "  upon  the  stump  of  the  "  felled-big- 
tree"  in  the  Calaveras  Grove. 

From  Mariposa  we  were  accompanied  by  two 
attendants,  to  act  as  guides  in  the  valley,  with 
two  extra  horses  in  addition  to  those  they  rode, 
and  they  occasionally  relieved  the  team,  by  giv- 
ing some  of  us  gentlemen  passengers  a  spell  in 
the  saddle.  When  we  were  a  little  more  than 
half  way  to  Clark's  Ranch,  I  thought  I  would 
try  it  for  a  mile  or  two,  as  a  kind  of  preparative 
for  my  equestrian  feats  in  the  valley,  but  I  was 
so  well  pleased  with  my  Bucephalus  and  we  got 
on  with  such  accord — he  never  once  trying  to 
get  me  off- — that  I  made  the  remainder  of  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  345 

distance  in  the  saddle,  along  with  one  of  our 
party  and  the  two  guides  up  and  down  the  grade, 
over  the  Conchilla  mountain  to  the  romantic  spot 
on  the  south  fork  of  the  Merced  River,  known 
as  "  Clark's  Ranch,"  whence  we  were  to  start  on 
the  morrow  for  Yoseniite. 

As  the  day  closed  and  the  balmy  night  came 
on,  we  wended  our  way  over  an  excellent  road 
far  in  advance  of  the  stage  wagon,  up  and  down 
among  the  gigantic  and  picturesque  pines  ;  each 
turn  and  change  on  our  ever-changing  way  open- 
ing a  new  vista  of  beauty  ;  the  moon  sending  her 
silvery  beams  through  the  branches,  each  new 
turn  forming  a  new  development  of  "  Fretted 
Roof "  and  "Gothic  Aisle"  far  surpassing  all 
that  I  had  yet  seen  of  man's  architecture. 

Sometimes  one  of  us,  and  sometimes  the  other, 
would  be  in  advance,  but  we  generally  kept 
pretty  well  together  for  conversation  and  com- 
panionship, and  it  was  well  that  we  did  so,  for 
we  came  almost  directly  on  a  she-bear  with  her 
two  cubs.  Two  of  our  party,  who  chanced  to  be 
a  few  paces  in  the  lead,  stopped  not  more  than 
fifty  paces  from  Mrs.  Bruin  and  her  family.  We 
reined  up  suddenly,  turning  and  backing  away  a 
little  ;  it  was  almost  impossible  to  hold  our  steeds 
in  hand.  The  bear  and  her  two  young  ones, 
after  a  minute  or  two,  made  tracks  down  the 
mountain  side,  expedited  by  our  shouts  and  a 


346  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

flambeau,  which  our  guides  kindled  with  match 
and  papers  found  in  their  pockets. 

If  we  had  got  more  close  to  her,  there  might 
have  been  trouble;  a  grizzly  or  cinnamon  bear 
with  two  cubs  is  very  likely  to  bite  and  tear,  if 
molested  ;  but  I  confess,  that  my  first  thought 
was  not  so  much  of  the  danger  of  being  chased 
by  the  bear,  if  she  should  pursue  us,  as  of  being 
tumbled  off  my  horse  in  the  chase  ;  for  a  man, 
who  gets  on  the  outside  of  a  horse  only  once  or 
twice  in  ten  or  twelve  years  is  not  likely  to  be  an 
accomplished  rider.  I  was  very  glad,  when  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  house,  far  beneath  us,  and 
still  gladder,  when  we  reached  it  in  safety — eight 
long  hours  from  Mariposa.  The  balance  of  our 
party  came  up  in  the  stage  wagon  an  hour  later. 

I  certainly  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  the  haven 
of  rest  and  safety,  especially  for  the  last  two  or 
three  miles  down  the  mountain ;  for  in  the  moon- 
light every  white  stump  and  old  log  looked  like 
a  bear.  We  started  from  Clark's  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  reaching  the  vicinity  of  the  Valley 
after  the  hour  of  noon,  and  as  we  progressed 
down,  down,  down,  beneath  the  overhanging 
rocks  from  "  Inspiration  Point "  and  along  the 
brabbling  Merced  ;  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  ;  at 
the  base  of  the  great  cliffs,  upon  whose  summits 
we  had  stood  in  the  morning ;  the  glistening  blue 
California  sky,  tinged  with  amber  and  sparkling 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  347 

with  a  million  stars  over  our  heads ;  "  El  Capi- 
tan  "  and  the  "  Sentinel  "  and  all  the  great  pin- 
nacles and  domes  looking  down  npon  us ;  with 
gigantic  pines  towering  up  all  around  and  the 
air  fragrant  with  sweet-smelling  wild  herbs,  we 
realized  the  surpassing  grandeur  of  nature,  com- 
bining the  beauties  of  torrent,  and  river,  and  moun- 
tain peak,  and  forest  in  a  marvelous  and  perfect 
panorama.  But,  faithful  to  my  word,  I  will  attempt 
no  description  of  u  Yosemite."  We  lingered  in 
the  grand  and  lovely  valley  a  week  and  our  visit 
was  made  doubly  pleasant  by  the  company  of  a 
lady  we  met  there,  and  who,  though  now  no 
more,  lives  with  all  of  us  as  one  of  the  pleasant- 
est  "  memories  "  of  "  Yosemite" — the  Hon.  Mrs. 
Teresa  Yelverton. 

In  the  year  1860,  a  remarkable  trial  occupied 
the  attention  of  the  Dublin  Courts.  The  cele- 
brated suit  was  brought  by  a  gentleman  against 
Major  Yelverton  for  a  sum  of  money  due  for  the 
board  of  his  wife,  Mrs.  Teresa  Yelverton.  After 
making  the  arrangement,  the  Major  deserted  his 
wife  and  married  again.  He  denied  that  he  had 
ever  married  her,  and  claimed  that  she  had  lived 
with  him  as  his  mistress ;  that  he  went  through 
the  forms  of  the  ceremonies  to  "  ease  her  con- 
science," and  that  he  had  no  thought  of  making 
her  his  wife.  It  was  thought  that  his  family 
caused  him  to  take  the  step  he  did,  and  that  his 


348  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

marriage  to  Mrs.  Forbes  was  also  the  result  of 
their  efforts ;  she  had  a  large  fortune  and  Major 
Yelverton  had  nothing  but  his  pay,  as  an  officer 
of  the  English  army.  The  Major  was  the  son 
of  an  Irish  peer,  who  was  himself  a  British 
officer. 

Miss  Teresa  Longworth,  the  lady  he  thus  stig- 
matized, had  been  twice  married  to  him,  once 
by  the  Scotch,  and  again  by  the  Irish  law. 
Their  marriage  was  kept  secret,  lest  his  family 
should  learn  of  it  and  disinherit  him.  He  was 
the  heir  apparent  to  the  Avonmore  peerage,  and 
an  officer  in  the  artillery,  and  Miss  Longworth 
was  not  a  member  of  the  nobility.  He  was 
simply  Captain  Yelverton  when  she  met  him,  but 
in  a  few  years  he  became  a  Major,  and  previous 
to  .his  death  he  assumed  the  title  of  Lord  Avon- 
more  ;  but  if  not  noble,  the  lady  was  of  high 
position ;  her  mother  dying  when  she  was  very 
young,  she  was  sent  to  Paris  to  be  educated  in  a 
convent,  her  family  being  of  the  Roman  Catholic 

faith. 

• 

The  acquaintance  between  the  two  commenced 
on  the  English  Channel  in  1852,  where  the  lady, 
who  was  returning  from  France,  was  introduced 
to  Captain  Yelverton  by  some  friends  on  board 
the  steamer.  The  acquaintance  was  kept  up  in 
London,  and  by  correspondence  afterwards,  both 
being  evidently  greatly  attached  to  each  other. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  349 

Miss  Longworth  spent  two  years  in  Italy,  and 
when  her  education  was  completed,  she  returned 
to  France,  in  a  memorable  year,  1855,  when 
young  ladies  of  rank  went  as  Sisters  of  Mercy  to 
the  Crimea  to  nurse  the  sick  of  the  Allied 
Armies,  and  she  went  with  a  party  of  ladies  on 
this  errand,  being  at  Malta  six  months  or  more. 
In  all  this  time  she  had  not  met  Captain  Yel- 
verton,  who  was  stationed  at  Malta,  but  was  in 
England  at  the  time.  When  he  returned  to  his 
regiment  he  offered  his  hand  to  her.  For  a  time 
there  was  a  happy  companionship  between  them, 
for  the  beautiful  girl  was  deeply  attached  to  the 
young  officer.  He  proposed  a  secret  marriage, 
on  the  ground  of  opposition  from  his  father,  on 
whom  he  was  dependant.  Miss  Longworth  was 
not  to  be  led  into  this  arrangement,  and  broke 
the  engagement.  She  went  to  the  Crimea  with 
an  officer's  family,  and  again  met  Major  Yelver- 
ton,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  some  months.  He 
again  proposed  a  secret  marriage,  and  was  again 
refused,  and  Miss  Longworth  returned  to  her 
sister  in  Wales.  At  this  time  she  was  in  the 
heigth  of  her  charms,  and  known  for  her  beauty 
where  she  was  unknown  personally.  Major 
Yelverton  desperately  enamored  of  her,  and  un- 
happy in  his  exile,  obtained  a  leave  of  absence 
and  followed  her.  During  the  winter  season  she 
was  at  Edinburgh,  and  he  was  constantly  at  her 


350  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

side,  and  persisting  in  his  appeal  to  be  married 
secretly.  She  refused  again  and  again.  One 
day  he  induced  her  to  let  him  read  the  Church 
of  England  marriage  service  to  her,  and  when  he 
had  completed  it,  told  her  that  in  Scotland  that 
constituted  a  marriage. 

She  returned  to  her  sister  in  Wales,  and  was 
claimed  there  by  him  as  his  wife,  and  induced  to 
go  to  Ireland  to  be  re-married  by  a  Catholic 
Priest.  Up  to  this  time,  and  subsequent  to  the 
marriage,  which  was  performed  by  the  Parish 
Priest  of  Rosstrevoir,  with  the  consent  of  the 
Bishop,  she  believed  him  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic. 
Miss  Longworth  made  her  first  mistake  in  agree- 
ing to  keep  the  matter  private.  They  traveled 
through  Ireland  together,  and  went  to  Scotland, 
and  at  the  trial  the  various  travelers'  books  in 
public  places  were  produced  as  evidence,  to  prove 
that  he  wrote  her  name  everywhere  as  Mrs. 
Yelverton. 

Their  passports  were  taken  out  in  his  name, 
and  they  introduced  each  other  to  their  friends 
as  husband  and  wife,  as  the  case  might  be.  The 
letters  written  by  Major  Yelverton  to  her  when 
absent  were  read,  and  created  a  profound  sym- 
pathy for  her,  and  a  great  array  of  witnesses 
came  from  far  and  near  to  testify  against  the  de- 
fendant. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  351 

The  jury  were  out  only  an  hour,  and  on  the 
rendering  of  their  verdict,  which  was  in  Mrs. 
Yelverton 's  favor,  the  excitement  was  of  the 
wildest  description.  Outside  the  courts  thou- 
sands of  people  had  congregated,  and  as  soon  as 
the  news  was  announced,  the  horses  were  taken 
from  the  coach  which  was  to  convey  Mrs.  Yel- 
verton  to  her  hotel,  and  down  the  quays,  lined 
with  people,  was  drawn  in  triumphal  procession; 
the  efforts  of  the  police  were  unavailing,  and  the 
little  lady  was  carried  up  the  stairs  of  the  hotel 
and  on  to  the  balcony,  where  she  could  be  seen 
by  all.  She  was  weeping,  and  had  to  be  sup- 
ported, but  soon  realizing  the  generous  kindness 
of  the  people,  she  advanced  to  the  railing  and  in 
an  eloquently  pathetic  manner,  thanked  them  for 
their  kindness. 

In  the  meantime,  Major  Yelverton  had  mar- 
ried Mrs.  Forbes,  and  he  appealed  the  case.  It 
was  reversed  in  an  English  court,  and  the'  verdict 
of  the  Irish  court  was  set  aside. 

Broken-hearted  and  ruined  in  health,  Mrs. 
Yelverton  left  England  forever,  and  came  to 
America.  She  was  at  this  time  twenty-eight 
years  of  age,  highly  accomplished,  a  superb  pian- 
iste,  and  had  a  rich  contralto  voice  which,  in  con- 
versation, was  music.  From  New  York  she  went 
to  Missouri,  where  she  purchased  a  stock-farm, 
and  for  some  years  lived  almost  entirely  alone. 


352  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

It  was  said  that  she  never  saw  a  piano  while  in 
Missouri,  but  this  was  untrue,  for  her  log-house 
contained,  in  addition  to  a  piano,  other  musical 
instruments  and  a  great  many  books.  Anxious 
to  get  still  further  from  a  world  where  she  had 
suffered  so  much,  she  sold  her  Missouri  farm  and 
went  to  New  Zealand,  where  she  had  a  cattle- 
ranch,  and  shortly  after  died  there. 

Such  is  the  story  in  brief  of  the  lovely  lady  I 
met  in  Yosemite  Valley.  Her  conversational  pow- 
ers were  wonderful,  her  affability  was  endearing, 
and  her  lovely  face  was  a  pleasure  to  the  sight, 
albeit  the  great  sorrow  of  her  life  had  saddened 
and  subdued  it  to  a  painful  degree.  She  was  a 
companion  in  our  rides  and  walks,  an  associate 
in  our  junketing  and  pic-nicking,  and  will  ever  be 
a  sweet  and  gentle  "  memory  "  of  our  visit  to  the 
Valley  of  the  Yosemite. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mr.  Joseph  Proctor — Mr.  Cathcart — Miss  Sue  Robinson — Miss 
Rose  Evans — Miss  Eva  West — Mr.  Eben  Plympton — Viv- 
ian— Mr.  John  McCullough — Salt  L,ake — Brigham  Young 
— California  Theatre  Company — The  Emperor  of  Brazil — 
Mr.  John  Raymond — An  Actor's  Fatality — Mrs.  John 
Drew — Semi-Centennial  Benefit — Portland  Theatre — Van- 
couver—  An  Indian  Talk  —  Walla -Walla  —  Miss  Rose 
Eytinge — Puget  Sound — Victoria. 

IT  was  on  my  return  from  Yosemite  that  I  first 
met  with  Mr.  Joseph  Proctor.  This  gentle- 
man, although  he  had  been  connected  with  the 
drama  in  Boston  for  a  part  of  the  time  in  which 
I  was  engaged  there,  I  had  not  personally  known, 
or  known  only  as  the  most  casual  acquaintance. 
At  the  .time  of  our  meeting,  he  had  leased  the 
"  Metropolitan  Theatre,"  in  Sacramento,  was 
gathering  his  company,  and  was  in  quest  of  ujust 
such  a  man  as  me,"  to  use  his  own  words,  and  it 
took  but  a  few  moments  to  come  to  an  under- 
standing which  was  mutually  pleasant,  and  with- 
out a  single  ripple  of  discord  during  the  two 
years  of  our  connection. 


354  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Mr.  Proctor  had  an  unquestionable  right  to  be 
called  a  California  actor,  for  he  was  among  the 
early  comers  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  He  was,  I 
think,  a  partner  of  Mr.  Venua  in  the  building  of 
the  "  Sacramento  Theatre,"  in  1852  ;  but  I  be- 
lieve that  he  did  not  remain  long  at  his  first  visit. 

Mr.  Proctor  was  a  forcible  and  capable  actor  in 
the  line  of  tragedy,  and  was — shall  I  not  rather 
say,  is?  for  he  still  lives — infinitely  more  pleas- 
ing and  satisfactory  in  many  of  the  classic  tragic 
roles  than  some  of  those  who  claim  a  higher  rep- 
utation. He  k7iows  his  business  thoroughly,  and 
if  he  plays  the  "Jibbenainosay  "  more  frequently 
than  Shakespeare,  it  is  not  that  he  loves  the  im- 
mortal bard  the  less,  but  that  the  multitude  love 
the  "  Jibbenainosay  "  the  more.  His  performance 
of  "  Damon  "  and  "  Virginius,"  of  "  King  Lear" 
and  "Alexander  the  Great,"  are  admirable  repre- 
sentations of  thespian  power. 

In  private  life  he  is  unimpeachable ;  as  a  man- 
ager just;  and  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  an  hon- 
est man. 

On  the  3Oth  of  November,  1883,  Mr.  Proctor 
was  the  recipient  of  a  testimonial  benefit  from 
his  Boston  friends,  to  celebrate  the  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  his  professional  life,  which  was  large- 
ly attended.  No  man  more  worthy  of  such  a 
compliment  ever  came  before  the  public. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  355 

Mr.  Proctor  commenced  his  campaign  on  the 
loth  of  September,  just  prior  to  the  commence- 
ment of  the  State  Fair,  thereby  availing  himself 
of  the  advantages  which  that  great  gathering 
offers  to  those  who  cater  for  public  patronage. 
The  weather  was  intensely  warm,  but  the  week's 
business  was  very  lucrative,  and  his  season  had 
an  excellent  "  send  off." 

The  stage  manager  was  Mr.  J.  F.  Cathcart. 
This  gentleman  came  to  California  not  long  be- 
fore with  some  organization  which  got  stranded 
in  San  Francisco ;  he  was  a  good  general  actor, 
and  had  been  through  an  English  Provincial 
experience.  Mr.  Cathcart  subsequently  visited 
California,  playing  the  seconds  with  Mr.  Charles 
Kean. 

Miss  Sue  Robinson  was  our  leading  lady  ;  she 
had  grown  up  from  a  child  on  the  Pacific  Coast, 
and  was  known  far  and  wide,  in  every  mining 
camp  of  the  early  days,  as  the  "  Fairy  Star" 
brim  full  of  natural  talent.  If  she  had  been  taken 
when  young  and  given  the  culture  and  training 
of  a  proper  dramatic  school,  I  can  think  of  none 
more  likely  to  attain  to  the  highest  grade  of  her 
profession ;  but  when  nuggets  and  handfulls  of 
gold-dust  were  thrown  to  the  little  girl  who 
twirled  the  banjo  and  danced  the  clog  and  sang 
the  topical  song,  those  who  controlled  her  were 
too  eager  to  gather  the  spoil  of  the  present  to 


356  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

think  very  much  of  her  future.  When  she 
joined  Mr.  Proctor  she  was  a  very  good  actress, 
in  spite  of  very  bad  training,  or  rather  of  no 
training  at  all ;  and  in  the  two  seasons  which 
she  remained  with  us  her  development  and  im- 
provement were  wonderful ;  her  performances  in 
some  of  the  higher  characters  of  comedy  would 
have  done  credit  to  any  first-class  theatre ;  and 
the  vocal  and  terpsichoreal  extravagances  of  her 
earlier  youth,  modified  by  good  judgment  and 
taste,  were  powerful  adjuncts  to  her  attractive- 
ness. Towards  the  close  of  the  season  she  was 
in  treaty  with  a  prominent  New  York  manager, 
and  getting  ready  to  start  for  a  new  field,  when 
death  intervened,  and  she  was  suddenly  cut  off 
at  the  threshhold  of  what  I  believe  would  have 
been  a  great  artistic  future.  Poor  Sue  Robinson ! 
Her  picture  hangs  in  my  chamber — a  not  alto- 
gether sad  "memory"  of  the  past. 

Mr.  Proctor  had  very  few  stars  during  his 
managerial  career  in  Sacramento ;  nor  did  he 
need  them.  He  had  a  working  company,  and 
there  was  a  very  generous  response  on  the  part 
of  the  public  to  his  efforts. 

I  recall  the  name  of  one  young  actress,  whose 
appearance,  both  in  the  Bay  City  and  Sacra- 
mento, was  a  pronounced  success.  Petite  in 
figure,  with  a  finely-moulded  form  and  childishly 
beautiful  face,  she  had  nevertheless  an  astonish- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  357 

ing  amount  of  nerve  and  power.  Among  her 
other  characters,  I  remember  "  Nell  Gwynne," 
"Mrs.  Oakley"  in  the  "Jealons  Wife,"  and, 
above  all,  "  Jnliet."  This  latter  character  in  her 
hands  was  superb ;  in  form  and  feature  she  was 
the  typical  u  Juliet"  of  our  imagination,  and  in 
her  wild  bursts  of  passion,  not  behind  Neilson. 
She,  too,  is  dead.  ("  Whom  the  gods  love,  die 
young.")  Her  name  was  Rose  Evans. 

Miss  Jenny  Mandeville  was  a  member  of  the 
company,  as  was  also  Mrs.  Stuart  (nee  Wood- 
ward) and  Mr.  Robert  Fulford,  who  subsequently 
married  Miss  Annie  Pixley,  another  California 
girl,  who  has  made  her  mark  in  dramatic  annals. 

Mr.  Proctor  crossed  the  mountains  with  his 
troupe,  I  think,  in  December,  and  some  time  was 
spent  in  Carson  and  Virginia  City,  where  Miss 
Leo  Hudson  played  an  engagement  as  "Ma- 
zeppa."  This  lady  had  a  shapely  form,  and  was 
rather  a  pleasing  actress  within  her  sphere — a 
narrow  one.  She  was  seconded  by  Miss  Eva 
West,  a  young  lady  who  could,  if  need  be,  take 
her  principal's  place,  if  for  any  cause  disabled, 
and,  strapped  to  the  "  wild  steed  of  the  Ukrame," 
make  all  the  "  runs,"  utterly  insensible  to  per- 
sonal fear.  Miss  West  was  a  far  better  actress 
than  her  leader,  and  has  since  then  been  oftener 
before  the  public,  and  always  to  their  acceptance 
and  gratification,  and  has  had  to  encounter  ill- 


358  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

health  and  many  of  the  hardships  which  await 
the  members  of  a  profession  where  the  most  de- 
serving are  not  always  the  most  successful.  I 
hope  her  future  may  be  prosperous. 

There  were  many  changes  in  the  company  for 
the  second  season  of  Mr.  Proctor's  management. 
Among  the  new-comers  was  a  young  man,  a  per- 
fect novice,  who  commenced  low  with  a  determin- 
ation to  "  fly  high,"  and  who,  from  that  hour, 
never  faltered  in  courage  to  do,  what  he  had  the 
will  to  resolve,  and  stands  to-day  one  of  the  fore- 
most of  young  American  actors — Bben  Plymp- 
tbn.  Mr.  Plympton  is  favorably  known  in  Eng- 
land, where  he  has  played  with  great  acceptance 
the  seconds  to  Edwin  Booth  and  Miss  Adelaide 
Neilson. 

Miss  Sue  Robinson  was  "succeeded  by  Mrs.  F. 
M.  Bates,  who  is  now  (1886)  a  member  of  Mr. 
McKee  Rankin's  "  California  Theatre  Company," 
and  Mr.  Crosby,  now  (1886)  with  the  "  Bunch  of 
Keys  "  company,  was  the  low-comedian.  Vivian, 
the  carricaturist,  was  with  us.  Mr.  Vivian  was 
called  in  the  "  bills  "  the  "  Great  Vivian,"  but  he 
was  not,  to  speak  truth,  very  large.  Mrs.  W-  — , 
a  "  society  lady,"  backed  by  a  gorgeous  wardrobe, 
appeared  as  "  Lady  Gay  Spanker "  and  two  or 
three  other  characters,  evincing  a  capacity  for 
the  stage,  which,  with  study,  promised  success ; 
but  I  never  heard  of  her  after. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  359 

With  the  possible  risk  of  being  called  mer- 
cenary, the  writer  of  these  "  memories  "  confesses 
that  the  two  most  pleasant  remembrances  of  that 
season  are  associated  with  the  evenings  of  Octo- 
ber 4,  1871  and  March  15,  1872,  when  his  name 
was  on  the  bills  as  a  beneficiary.  The  compli- 
mentary card,  tendering  the  first  one,  was  signed 
by  one  hundred  and  fifty  prominent  citizens  and 
the  audience  numerous  and  brilliant.  The  play 
was  Morton's  comedy  of  "  Speed  the  Plough." 
At  the  second,  the  beneficiary  essayed  for  the 
first  time  the  character  of  "  Falstaff,"  which 
was  thrice  repeated. 

About  the  middle  of  the  month  of  April,  I  got 
a  dispatch  directing  me  to  meet  Mr.  John  Mc- 
Cullough  at  the  railroad  station,  and  the  result 
of  that  brief  interview  was  my  engagement  for 
the  California  Theatre  in  San  Francisco  ;  where, 
early  in  May,  I  appeared  for  the  first  time  as 
"  Adam,"  in  "  As  You  Like  It ;  "  the  "  Rosalind  " 
being  Miss  Carlotta  Leclerq ;  the  "  Orlando," 
Mr.  John  McCullough  ;  the  "  Touchstone,"  Mr. 
Williamson,  and  the  "Banished  Duke,"  Mr. 
Henry  Edwards.  Perhaps  I  may  be  called  pre- 
sumptuous in  the  assertion  that  with  respect  to 
perfect  appointment,  fitness  of  all  the  surround- 
ings and  appurtenances,  beautiful  sylvan  scenery 
and  appropriate  music,  never  since  time  was  has 
Shakespeare's  charming  idyl  been  better  put 


360  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

upon  the  stage.  The  exquisite  song,  sang  by 
that  most  exqtiisitely  sympathetic  tenor,  Mr. 
Joseph  Maguire,  now  deceased,  of — 

"  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter's  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude." 

Lives  with  me,  and  will  live  ever  as  a  sweet  and 
melodious  "  memory." 

The  death  of  my  old  associate,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Smith,  with  whom  I  had  played  in  Boston  nearly 
half  a  century  previous,  opened  the  way  to  my 
connection  with  the  California  Theatre,  which, 
under  the  direction  of  the  late  John  McCullough, 
maintained  for  a  period  of  nearly  nine  years  its 
claim  to  be  the  best  managed  and  most  prosper- 
ous theatre  in  the  Union,  the  best  theatres  in 
New  York,  or  any  other  city,  not  excepted. 

John  McCullough  is  no  more  ;  his  lamp  of  life 
went  out  in  mist  and  darkness.  It  is  not  for  me 
to  comment  on  his  status  as  an  actor,  but  it  is 
wholly  proper  and  congenial  to  my  feelings  to 
say  of  him :  That,  as  a  generous  and  just  man- 
ager, as  a  kind  friend,  ever  ready  to  relieve  the 
distressed,  not  alone  of  his  professional  associ- 
ates, but  of  all  who  needed  aid,  he  was  indeed 
a  "  man  of  men."  Who,  of  the  large  number 
of  prominent  actors  and  actresses,  who  for  many 
successful  seasons  played  at  the  "  California;" 
who,  of  the  still  larger  number  of  the  supporting 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  361 

corps,  who  from  year  to  year  aided  in  the  work, 
will  not  certify  to  the  liberality  in  business,  and 
kindness  in  intercourse,  of  John  McCullongh  ? 
I  venture  to  say,  Not  one ! 

In  pondering  on  the  recent  afflicting  termina- 
tion of  a  career  so  full  of  promise,  as  was  Mr. 
McCullough's ;  nay,  rather  of  fruition  than 
promise,  for  fame  came  before  death — the  "mem- 
ories "  of  many  departed  associates  come  up  to 
ine  like  sombre  shadows — and  "  so  depart."  At 
the  obsequies  of  very  many  of  these  I  assisted, 
among  whom  may  be  mentioned  Frederick  Glover 
at  Sacramento,  William  Leigh  ton,  Harry  Perry, 
Nathaniel  Bassett,  James  Kendall,  Mortimer, 
George  and  Caroline  Chapman,  Mary  Stuart, 
Mrs.  Judah,  William  Barry,  Sophie  Edwin,  Mon- 
tague, Samuel  Piercy  and  others.  To  these 
brothers  and  sisters  of  the  mimic  art  the  end  has 
come;  may  those  who  are  left  be  just,  without 
fear  or  guile,  realizing  that 

' '  It  is  not  all  of  life  to  live, 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die." 

The  season  at  the  "  California  "  terminated  in 
about  six  weeks  from  the  time  of  my  joining  the 
Company  and  in  the  latter  part  of  June  I  went 
East  overland  once  more  to  my  "native  heather" 
and  with  my  old  manager,  Booth,  played  for  my 
more  recent  manager,  Mr.  Proctor,  in  the  drama 


362  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

of  "  The  Red  Pocket-Book,"  which  had  been  suc- 
cessful in  California,  but  was  only  moderately  so 
in  Boston.  This  engagement  of  two  weeks, 
terminating  on  the  i5th  of  September,  1872, 
closed  my  career  in  Boston,  which  had  commenced 
five-and-forty  years  before. 

On  the  i  Qth  day  of  September,  I  left  Boston 
to  cross  the  continent  for  the  fifth  time,  and 
availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  to  visit  Salt 
Lake  City.  Brigham  Young  was  then  in  the 
plenitude  of  his  power.  He  was  courteous  to 
strangers,  and  received  a  little  party,  of  which  I 
was  one,  with  all  the  coolness  and  a-plomb  of  a 
man  of  the  world — which,  indeed,  he  was.  There 
was  an  intensity  of  expression  in  his  steel-blue 
eyes,  that  pierced  into  the  thoughts  of  men,  and 
after  seeing  him,  I  hardly  wondered  at  his  power. 
Salt  Lake  was — and  is  still,  I  presume — a  pretty 
city.  The  early  Mormon  residents  were  very 
fond  of  the  theatre  and  had  constructed  a  hand- 
some building,  where  Brigham  used  to  sit  on  a 
Boston  Rocker  in  the  center  of  the  pit,  with  his 
numerous  family  in  the  lower  tier  of  boxes  on 
either  side.  Payment,  at  first,  was  taken  in  pro- 
duce,— a  bushel  of  potatoes  or  a  fat  turkey  for  a 
box  ticket,  or  pit  admission,  as  the  case  might 
be.  He  talked  freely  of  the  theatre  and  was 
high  in  praise  of  Mrs.  Hayne,  who  had  recently 
played  in  Salt  Lake  City.  I  confess,  that  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  363 

general  appearance  of  the  gentle  sex  at  Salt  Lake 
did  not  make  me  much  regret  the  opportunity  I 
lost  of  obtaining  a  bishopric  and  a  harem,  by 
refusing  to  act  on  Irwin's  suggestion  at  Virginia 
City,  nine  years  before. 

The  u  California  Theatre,"  altered  and  re-dec- 
orated, opened  for  the  season  on  the  evening  of 
Monday,  September  30,  1872,  with  Lovell's  com- 
edy of  "Look  before  you  Leap." 

The  record  of  the  "  California,"  under  the  ad- 
ministration of  Mr.  McCullough,  was,  from  its  com- 
mencement to  within  a  year  of  its  termination, 
one  of  almost  unexampled  prosperity,  but  to- 
wards the  end  the  clouds  began  to  lower.  The 
erection  of  the  "  Grand  Opera  House  "  and  the 
u  Baldwin  Theatre  "  would  not  necessarily  have 
jeopardized  that  prosperity,  apart  from  other 
causes.  The  first,  as  a  business  venture,  had 
been  conceived  in  folly,  lingered  to  a  slow,  half- 
completion,  after  months  of  delay,  and  was  an 
elephant  on  the  hands  of  its  builders ;  the  latter 
was  backed  by  wealth,  but  persistent  ill-fortune 
attended  its  earlier  management. 

The  increased  competition  of  two  large  thea- 
tres in  addition  to  the  two  already  existing, 
called  for  increased  energy,  and  some  of  the  man 
ager's  best  friends  thought  he  made  a  mistake 
by  leaving  the  field  in  San  Francisco  to  his  lieu- 
tenants, to  fight  his  battle  for  fame  and  fortune 


364  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

in  distant  fields.  A  discussion  of  the  cause  and 
the  result  would  be  profitless  and  uninteresting 
in  these  pages. 

In  each  successive  season  of  niy  continuance 
at  the  "California  Theatre,"  "star"  followed 
"star"  in  rapid  succession  ;  piece  after  piece  was 
produced  with  lavish  expenditure,  and  the  dram- 
atic and  orchestral  force  were  kept  up  to  the 
public  requirement.  Some  changes  were  made 
in  the  stage  department,  but  the  personnel  of  the 
company  remained,  on  the  whole,  the  same: 

The  leading  gentleman  and  lady  of  the  first 
season  were  Mr.  George  Chaplin  and  Miss  Annie 
Graham.  In  1873,  Mr.  Lewis  Morrison  and  Miss 
Ellie  Wilton  held  respectively  those  positions, 
and  in  the  Fall  of  the  same  year,  Mr.  Barton 
Hill  became  stage  manager.  The  next  year, 
Miss  Belle  Pateman  was  leading  lady ;  Mr.  Mor- 
rison was  succeeded  by  Mr.  Thomas  Keane  as 
leading  man,  who  held  the  position  until  Mr.  Mc- 
Cullough's  retirement.  The  successive  low-com- 
edians of  the  company  were  Messrs.  Williamson, 
Pateman,  and  C.  R.  Bishop,  and  the  orchestral 
department  was  under  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Charles  Schultz. 

To  the  names  of-  all  these  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, I  might  add  those  of  Henry  Edwards,  John 
Wilson,  W.  A.  Mestayer,  Owen  Marlowe,  Ebeii 
Plympton,  Stephen  W.  Leach,  E.  N.  Thayer, 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  365 

Fred  Franks,  William  Barry,  J.  N.  Long,  Nelson 
Decker,  Frank  Kilday,  W.  B.  Curtis,  J.  P.  Bur- 
net,  Louis  Harrison,  and  J.  Tighe ;  of  Mrs. 
Judah,  Mrs.  Saunders,  Helen  Tracy,  Minnie  Wal- 
ton, Carrie  Wyatt,  Nellie  Cummings,  Rellie 
Deaves,  Louisa  Chambers,  Sophie  Edwin,  Georgie 
Woodthorpe,  Louisa  Johnstone,  Kate  Benin, 
Maggie  Moore,  Alice  Harrison,  Belle  Chapman, 
Eleanor  Carey,  Frankie  McClellan,  and  very 
many  more  who  were  in  the  "  stock  "  during  the 
palmy  days  of  the  "  California  Theatre,"  some  of 
whom  are  now  "stars"  in  their  own  right,  and 
some  have  passed  away,  never  to  return. 

Among  the  stellar  luminaries  I  recall  the 
names  of  Lawrence  Barrett,  Chanfrau,  Bouci- 
cault,  Sothern,  May  Howard,  Shiel  Barry,  Ade- 
laide Neilson,  John  Raymond,  Wm.  Hoskins, 
Mrs.  Bowers,  Rose  Eytinge,  Edwin  Adams, 
Charles  Fechter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence, 
Lizzie  Price,  Catharine  Rodgers,  Modjeska, 
Owens,  Rose  Evans,  Augusta  Dargon,  De  Bar, 
Edwin  Booth,  Alice  Dunning,  Ada  Cavendish, 
Frank  Mayo,  Janauscheck,  Fanny  Davenport, 
Jeffreys-Lewis,  and  yet  the  half  not  told. 

Of  all  these  the  writer  has  pleasant  "  memor- 
ies "  because,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Henry  Edwards 
truthfully  says,  in  his  feeling  oration  at  John 
McCullough's  tomb,  "  there  was  a  something  in 


366  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

the  atmosphere  of  thoughtful  kindness  that  per- 
vaded the  place,  that  made  everyone  who  came 
within  its  influence  feel  the  calm  comforts  of  a 
home ;"  and  we  both  of  us  speak 

' '  Of  that  which  we  do  know. ' ' 

One  of  the  pleasant  outgrowths  of  those 
happy  days  in  the  California  Theatre  was  the  or- 
ganization of  the  "  California  Theatre  Boat  Club." 
Among  the  leading  spirits  of  the  club  were 
Messrs.  Wm.  Mestayer,  Thomas  Gossman  and 
John  Trueworthy ;  the  somewhat  unsylph-like 
frame  of  the  first  was  unfitted  for  continuous  effort 
with  the  ash,  but  the  two  latter  were  powerful 
members  of  the  "  California  Crew,"  which  gener- 
ally captured  the  laurels  from  all  opponents. 

The  organization  was  composed  mainly  of  at- 
tachees  of  the  theatre,  reinforced  by  a  few  gen- 
tlemen from  the  outside,  among  whom  was  my 
old  friend  Dr.  Knowlton,  so  well  known  to  all 
San  Francisco  for  superior  skill  in  his  profession, 
and  for  his  websterian  faculty  of  combining  the 
elements,  which,  when  in  proper  combination, 
make  a  fish  chowder  a  "  feast  for  the  gods." 

The  club  utilized  this  faculty  at  their  merry- 
makings, and  the  Doctor  was  always  a  willing 
volunteer.  I  append  a  few  lines,  which,  at  his 
request,  I  wrote  for  one  of  those  festive  gather- 
ings— 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  367 

SONG  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA   THEATRE  BOAT  CLUB. 

No  fairer  sight  beneath  the  light 

Shed  by  the  god  of  day 
Was  ever  seen  by  mortal  e'en 

Than  San  Francisco  Bay. 
No  stouter  arms  or  truer  hearts 

In  all  the  Union  wide 
Than  those  that  skim  its  crested  waves 

And  stem-  its  restless  tide. 

Chorus — 
Then  raise  on  high  the  joyous  shout 

And  let  the  chorus  swell — 
«  .    The  California  Boat  Club  !  hip,  hip,  hurrah  ! 

With  lapstreak  or  with  shell. 

Enthroned  in  state  by  the  Golden  Gate 

The  queenly  city  sends 
Her  crowds  of  youth  and  beauty  forth 

To  greet  their  stalwart  friends — 
Whose  manhood  with  the  bending  blade 

Was  never  known  to  quail  ; 
Whose  muscle  in  the  sharpest  "spurt " 

"  Knows  no  such  word  as  fail. " 
Chorus — Then  raise  on  high,  etc. 

Then  clear  the  track,  craft  all  aback, 

The  racers  now  are  placed, 
Each  oarsman  grips  the  sturdy  ash 

And  every  nerve  is  braced. 
The  signal  gun — they're  off!  hurrah  ! 

The  stake-boat  soon  is  reached, 
The  California's  round  it  first ; 

They're  on  the  homeward  stretch. 
Chorus — Then  raise  on  high,  etc. 

The  line  is  crossed,  the  flag  is  won, 

The  rattling  contest  ends, 
The  vanquished  know  no  bitterness, 

True  oarsmen  all  are  friends. 
And  the  victor  California's  boys 

No  sordid  triumph  feel, 
For  they  honor  every  foeman 

Who  is  worthy  of  their  steel. 

Chorus — Then  raise  on  high,  etc. 


368  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

During  Mr.  McCullough's  management  many 
eminent  personages  visited  the  theatre,  of  whom, 
one  especially  eminent,  not  only  as  a  ruler,  but 
as  a  man,  may  be  individualized — the  Emperor 
Dom  Pedro  of  Brazil.  He  attended  a  matinee 
performance  on  the  28th  of  April,  1876,  the  play 
being  "  King  Lear,"  selected  by  himself.  No 
extraordinary  preparations  were  made  for  his  re- 
ception ;  with  one  or  two  attendants  he  came  as 
a  private  gentleman,  and  the  only  recognition  of 
the  illustrious  visitor's  presence  was  the  trophy 
of  Brazilian  flags  twined  over  the  mezzanine 
box  which  he  occupied.  His  Brazilian  majesty 
seemed  greatly  interested  in  the  performance, 
paying,  I  think,  quite  as  much  attention  to  the 
book  of  the  play,  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  as 
to  the  actors  on  the  stage.  .  Between  the  fourth 
and  fifth  acts  a  little  girl  entered  the  box  and 
presented  him  with  a  bouquet,  when  he  took  the 
little  one  upon  his  knee  and  made  her  proud 
with  a  kiss — truly  is  it  said,  "  One  touch  of 
nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin."  And  when 
the  play  concluded,  walked  quietly  through  the 
lobby  to  a  coach  in  waiting,  with  no  notice  of  his 
rank  from  any  one,  other  than  that  of  courtesy, 
as  he  passed. 

A  word  or  two  more,  and  the  "  California  The- 
atre "  and  all  that  pertains  thereto  is  dropped 
from  my  pages.  The  Patemans  are  in  England; 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  369 

Mr.  Morrison  is  traveling  with  his  own  com- 
pany ;  Mr.  Thomas  Keane  is  also  traveling  with 
his  own  company ;  Mr.  Williamson  has  been  for 
some  years  a  successful  manager  in  Australia ; 
Bishop  —  Charley  Bishop,  "  too  handsome  for 
anything,"  and  whose  look  alone  is  enough  to 
put  a  "soul  under  the  ribs  of  death" — is  still 
playing  in  San  Francisco ;  Harry  Edwards  has 
been  for  many  years  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  in 
New  York ;  John  Wilson  has  gone  to  a  better 
land  —  as  have  Owen  Marlowe  and  William 
Barry.  Mestayer  has  been  his  own  manager  for 
many  a  year,  and  made  a  fortune ;  and  so  has 
Curtis  ;  Eben  Plympton  has  risen  to  high 
rank,  and  commands  his  own  terms ;  Ste- 
phen Leach  lives  in  Oakland,  California,  and 
nurses  the  musical  talent  of  the  Bohemian  Club 
in  San  Francisco  ;  and  Louis  Harrison  is  his 
own  manager,  and  banks  his  own  money. 

Of  the  "  stars  "  whose  names  I  have  enumer- 
ated, seven  have  paid  the  "  debt  of  nature,"  and 
the  rest  still  gleam  in  the  theatric  horizon. 

Mr.  Barton  Hill  and  Mr.  Robert  Eberle  still 
live ;  the  former  is  acting  in  the  eastern  cities, 
and  the  latter  is  the  efficient  manager  of  Mr. 
Hayman's  company,  at  the  Baldwin  Theatre  in 
San  Francisco.  Of  the  ladies  named  as  being 
members  of  the  stock  company,  I  think  all  but 
four  survive. 


370  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Mr.  John  Raymond,  whose  name  is  in  my 
stellar  list  of  the  California  Theatre,  was  the 
low-comedian  of  the  company,  I  believe,  during 
the  first  season,  when  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett  was 
associated  in  the  management.  He  has  been 
eminently  successful — and,  indeed,  deserves  to 
be,  for  where  shall  we  find  his  match  ?  I  am 
reminded  here  of  a  ludicrous  incident  which 
occurred  when  he  was  manager ;  perhaps  he  has 
forgotten  it — I  had  almost  forgotten  it  myself; 
but  I  think  it  was  in  1871,  in  San  Jose,  where 
he  opened  a  theatre,  a  new  one,  and  made  "  his 
pile"  in  a  week. 

The  play  was  "  Richard  III,"  and  the  "  Rich- 
ard" was  Mr.  McCullough.  Of  course,  Manager 
Raymond  could  not  lavish  so  much  money  on 
the  appointments  and  scenery  of  his  new  theatre 
as  if  he  had  been  the  lessee  for  a  year  instead  of 
a  week,  and  the  armies  of  the  representatives  of 
the  contending  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster 
were  somewhat  spare  in  numbers  and  meagre  in 
dress  and  armament ;  to  tell  the  truth,  although 
I  suppose  John  would  deny  it,  he  sent  ''Rich- 
mond" on  the  stage  with  an  army  of  one  man. 
"  Oxford,"  in  addressing  the  Earl,  says— 

"Your  words  have  fire,  my  lord,  and  warm  our  men, 
Who  looked  methought  but  cold  before — disheartened 
By  the  unequal  numbers  of  the  foe"- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  371 

"Oxford"  looked  round,  and  seeing  "Rich- 
mond's" gallant  army  of  one  man,  ill-dressed, 
with  a  tin-foil  helmet  on  his  head,  standing  "  all 
forlorn,"  he  took  in  the  situation  at  once,  and 
changed  his  speech  to — 

"  Your  words  have  fire,  my  lord,  and  warm  this  man,"  etc. 

It  was  a  judicious  departure  from  the  text  of 
Shakespeare,  and  the  San  Jose  critics  never 
uttered  a  word  of  censure. 

One  ludicrous  thing  reminds  me  of  another — 
which  occurred  in  the  Old  Theatre  in  Sacra- 
mento. A  certain  member  of  a  company  then 
in  occupation  of  the  theatre  was  addicted  to 
occasional  intemperance ;  he  was  naturally  of  a 
serious  deportment,  and  in  excuse  for  his  indul- 
gence always  avowed  that  the  propensity  was  a 
disease — that  it  was,  in  short,  a  fiat  of  the 
Almighty  that  he  should  be'  drunk,  and  he  had 
to  submit.  On  the  night  in  question  he  went 
before  the  audience  so  inebriated,  that  their  dis- 
pleasure was  shown  by  a  general  hiss,  when, 
staggering  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  he  laid  his 
hand  on  his  heart,  and  throwing  a  look  of 
drunken  solemnity  around,  exclaimed,  "  La- 
ladies  and  gent-gent-lemen,  a  visitation  of  God!" 
and  staggered  off.  For  some  time  after,  the 
irreverent  men  about  town  were  wont  to  invite 
to  the  social  glass  by  suggesting  "  a  visitation 
of  God." 


372  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Mr.  McCullough  was  for  a  short  time  the 
lessee  of  the  "  Baldwin  Theatre,"  and  it  was 
opened  with  the  "  School  for  Scandal,"  intro- 
ducing Mrs.  John  Drew.  This  lady  was,  and  I 
believe,  still  is,  manageress  of  a  Philadelphia 
theatre;  and  her  " Lady  Teazle "  was  pronounced 
by  the  critics  "  perfectly  delightful  in  grace  and 
movement  and  gesture,  and  all  the  qualifications 
which  bespeak  the  true  artist."  Mrs.  John  Drew 
was  the  little  Miss  Lane  whom  I  remembered  in 
the  Tremont  Theatre,  nearly  fifty  years  before. 

In  August,  1878,  I  was  engaged  at  the  Opera 
House,  and  there  met  Mrs.  Scott-Siddons.  This 
lady  reminded  me  in  her  style  and  method  of 
Mrs.  Mowatt;  she  possessed  grace,  but  lacked 
power.  On  the  i6th  of  November,  the  "  Semi- 
Centennial  Testimonial  tendered  by  the  public  of 
San  Francisco  to  Walter  M.  Leman,  on  his  com- 
pletion of  fifty  years'  service  on  the  stage,"  took 
place.  On  this  occasion,  I  had  the  volunteer 
assistance  of  a  large  number  of  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen connected  with  the  theatre,  and  of  several 
gentlemen  prominent  in  social  life.  It  was  a 
brilliant  financial  success,  the  great  theatre  being 
absolutely  full.  In  point  of  fact,  the  semi-cen- 
tennial date  had  passed,  for  I  had  commenced 
in  1827. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  373 

A  poetical  address,  written  especially  for  the 
occasion,  was  spoken  by  the  beneficiary,  of  which 
the  following  lines  are  a  portion': — 

' '  The  old  man  links  the  present  with  the  past, 
His  step  is  firm,  although  his  locks  are  white  ; 
You  have  met  him  often  amid  scenes  of  mirth, 
Yet  scarcely  happier  than  he  is  to-night ; 
You  have  often  seen  him  in  his  mimic  life, 
Play  the  sad  semblance  of  a  dark  despair ; 
You  have  seen  him,  when  reality  most  real, 
Found  echo  only  in  the  listening  air. 
His  cup  is  full — this  last  most  welcome  boon 
His  grateful  heart  fills  brimming  full — and  cheers  ; 
But  why  assert  in  words  ?  since  I  am  sure 
His  face  an  index  of  his  heart  appears. " 

This  neat  and  friendly  offering  was  from  the 
pen  of  B.  P.  Moore,  Esq. 

On  the  first  of  December,  I  left  San  Francisco 
on  the  Steamer  "  Great  Republic  "  for  Portland, 
Oregon,  nnder  engagement  to  Mr.  John  Maguire, 
then  manager  of  the  "  New-Market  Theatre  "  in 
that  city.  His  acting  manager  was  Mr.  Marcus 
R.  Mayer.  The  season  commenced  with  Miss 
Ada  Cavendish  and  was  one  of  moderate  success. 
My  visit  to  Portland  is  one  of  happy  memories, 
for  I  met  old  friends,  and  the  continuation  of  my 
tour  made  me  familiar  with  some  of  the  grandest 
scenery  on  the  continent.  At  Vancouver,  which 
was  for  many  years  the  principal  trading-post  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  is  now  one  of  the 


374  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

prominent  military  stations  of  trie  great  North- 
west, I  found  in  the  garrison  some  gentlemen  of 
my  acquaintance,  who  became  soldiers  at  their 
country's  call,  and  remained  in  the  army  after 
peace  returned. 

The  post  was  under  the  command  of  General 
Sully,  a  scar-worn  veteran,  who  was,  I  think,  a 
brother  of  the  famous  painter  of  that  name.  He 
must  have  imbibed  some  of  his  brother's  tastes, 
for  the  pretty  little  theatre  in  the  garrison  was 
decorated  with  scenes,  most  of  which  were 
painted  by  him.  The  General  died  not  long  after 
my  visit.  From  Portland,  a  small  company,  of 
which  I  was  one,  started  for  the  thriving  town  of 
Walla  Walla,  the  center  of  a  wonderfully  rich 
grain  region,  where  but  a  few  years  back  the 
painted  savage  held  undisputed  sway.  At  Van- 
couver, the  boat  took  on  board  General  Howard 
and  Aid,  and  our  trip  up  the  Upper  Columbia 
was  one  to  be  remembered.  I  had  not  then  seen 
the  Rhine — I  have  since.  There  are  no  old 
feudal  castles  on  the  first-named  river  and  none 
are  needed  to  make  it  what  it  is,  in  every  point 
of  grandeur  and  beauty  by  far  the  finer  of  the 
two.  At  Wallula,  another  novelty  awaited  me: 
the  chiefs  and  head  men  of  a  small  Indian  tribe, 
I  forget  the  name,  were  to  meet  General  Howard 
for  a  "  talk  "  and  I  was  present,  with  some  ladies 
and  gentlemen  of  our  company,  in  the  dingy 
room  where  the  talk  was  held.  The  principal 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  375 

spokesman  was  an  old  chief,  "  Homily,"  who,  as 
General  Howard  afterwards  assured  me,  had 
always  been  a  friend  to  the  whites  and  a  u  good 
Indian,"  in  spite  of  the  growing  opinion,  that  no 
Indians 'can  be  "  good,"  except  dead  ones.  The 
General  told  us,  that  all  of  these  red  men  would 
want  to  shake  hands,  and  would  take  offense  if 
refused,  and  so  we  went  through  the  proffered 
hand-shake  with  each  one  in  succession.  The 
council,  or  talk,  broke  up  in  about  an  hour. 

At  Wallula  we  took  the  railroad  for  Walla 
Walla,  a  distance,  as  I  remember,  of  some  thirty 
odd  miles.  Walla  Walla  is  a  beautiful  town,  full 
of  life  and  energy,  with  spacious  houses  of  busi- 
ness and  elegant  homes.  In  this  pretty  town 
where  we  contemplated  a  stay  of  but  three  weeks, 
we  remained  six ;  and  went  for  three  or  four 
nights  to  "  Dayton,"  thirty  or  forty  miles  dis- 
tant, through  a  grain  region  where  a  yield  of 
from  forty  to  forty-five  and  fifty  bushels  to  the 
acre  is,  I  believe,  the  rule  and  not  the  exception  ; 
the  wheat  of  the  Walla  Walla  country  is  world 
famous. 

I  spent  a  pleasant  day  while  in  Walla  Walla 
at  the  Cavalry  Post,  some  three  miles  from  the 
town,  where  I  had  an  opportunity  to  see  for  the 
first  time  an  exciting  series  of  cavalry  maneu- 
vers, and  I  remember  a  funny  object  which,  how- 
ever, was  looked  upon  with  indifference  by  the 


376  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

soldiers — one  of  their  number  walking  about 
within  prescribed  limits,  enclosed  in  a  barrel 
minus  its  two  heads — the  culprit  seemed  to  care 
as  little  for  his  disgrace  as  the  lookers  on.  One 
of  the  men  told  me  that  he  lived  in  that  barrel 
half  of  the  time,  "  for  he  would  get  drunk, 
barrel  or  no  barrel." 

We  returned  to  Portland,  and  on  the  8th  of 
April,  recommenced  with  the  engagement  of  Miss 
Rose  Ey tinge,  which  continued  for  two  weeks, 
and  thence  started  for  another  section  of  our 
wide-spread  republic,  which  I  had  long  wanted  to 
see — the  Puget  Sound  region,  and  who  so  does 
not  see  it,  misses  the  sight  of  what  I  think  is  in 
the  near  future  destined  to  be  the  "  promised 
land."  Puget  Sound,  our  beautiful  Mediterra- 
nean of  the  Northwest,  indented  with  bays  and 
inlets  deep  enough  to  float  the  largest  iron-clad ; 
its  shores  skirted  with  mighty  forests,  above 
which  "  Tacoma  "  towers  with  his  15,000  feet  of 
glistening  snow — can  hardly  be  described  by 
description — it  must  be  seen.  We  played  in 
Olympia  at  the  head  of  the  Sound,  where  the 
hotel — a  good  one — was  kept  by  a  colored  woman, 
a  refugee  slave  who  had  escaped,  and  found  a  far- 
away home  among  the  free,  and  ate  oysters 
abundant  in  quantity,  minute  in  size  and  sweet 
in  flavor.  From  thence  by  steamer  to  Seattle, 
beautifully  situated  like  an  amphitheatre  on  the 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  377 

shore  of  the  Sound,  and  hoping  to  be,  like  many 
other  places,  the  "  great  city  of  the  Northwest," 
in  which  race  it  seems  thus  far  to  have  the  ad- 
vantage ;  and  again  by  steamer  over  that  beauti- 
ful inland  sea  to  Port  Townsend,  and  across  the 
straits  to  the  quaint  and  interesting  city  of  Vic- 
toria, within  the  realm  of  her  gracious  Majesty 
of  that  name,  where  we  remained  for  a  week, 
which  was  moderately  remunerative  and  in- 
finitely enjoyable,  and  returned  to  Portland, 
where  we  took  steamer  and  sailing  down  the 
river  crossed  the  angry  bar  in  safety,  and  so  to 
San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Mr.  Robinson — Miss  Georgia  Woodthorpe — Mr.  Samuel  W. 
Piercy — Captain  Jack  Crawford — Romeo  and  Juliet — Ben- 
efit— The  Stage — Its  Influence  on  Society — The  Starring 
System — An  American  Drama — Europe — Killarney — The 
Irish  Problem — Chester — Glasgow — The  Land  o '  Burns — 
Rothsay  Castle — Stirling — Edinburgh— Abbotsford — Lon- 
don— Obsequies  of  Grant — Paris — Venice — Verona  and  its 
Amphitheatre — Home. 

IN  the  middle  of  October,  1879, 1  again  left  the 
Pacific  metropolis,  playing  in  the  cities  of 
Oakland,  San  Jose,  Stockton,  Sacramento,  Reno 
and  Carson,  and  thence  to  Virginia  City,  where 
Miss  Ada  Cavendish  joined  us  for  a  week,  and  Mr. 
Frank  Mayo  for  another,  and  returning  home- 
ward, closed  at  the  "  California  Theatre  "  my  last 
engagement,  and  practically  terminated  in  San 
Francisco  a  theatrical  career  which  commenced 
fifty-two  years  and  four  months  before,  in  Boston, 
Massachusetts. 

There  have  been  since  then,  occasional  renew- 
als, as  for  the  benefit  of  a  charity,  or  to  serve  an 
old  friend,  or  assist  in  the  production  of  a  new 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  379 

play,  the  last  of  which  occurred  in  February, 
1886,  at  the  "  Bush  Street  Theatre,"  in  Bouci- 
cault's  comedy  of  the  "Jilt,"  fifty-nine  years  from 
the  time  I  tumbled  over  "  Petruchio's  "  legs  as 
"  Nicholas,"  in  the  "  Taming  of  the  Shrew." 

There  were  with  me,  in  my  visit  to  Portland 
and  Victoria,  three  individuals  who  deserve  men- 
tion in  these  reminiscences,  the  first  of  whom 
should  by  no  means  be  omitted  in  any  record  that 
treats  of  "  old  Californians  "  connected  with  the 
stage. 

Dr.  Robinson,  the  father  of  "  Sue  Robinson," 
the  "  fairy  star,"  of  whom  I  have  previously  spo- 
ken, was  one  of  the  early  comers  to  the  land  of 
gold.  He  had  played  in  all  the  mining  regions 
of  Oregon  and  California,  and  the  lavish  favors 
of  fortune  had  been  followed  by  her  frowns  so 
often  that  he  had  become  indifferent  alike  to 
frown  or  smile.  The  dilapidated  old  theatre  in 
Victoria,  in  which  we  played,  had  been  erected 
by  him  twenty-five  years  before.  I  do  not  think 
that  Dr.  Robinson  had  ever  received  anything 
like  regular  theatrical  training,  but,  like  John 
R.  Potter  and  J.  P.  Addams,  he  was  "  up  "  in 
everything,  and  some  parts  he  played  well. 
When  I  last  saw  him,  eight  years  ago,  he  was 
poor.  Perhaps  fortune  has  changed  and  made 
him  rich  ;  I  hope  so,  with  all  my  heart. 


380  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Miss  Georgie  Woodthorpe  was  a  little  San 
Francisco  girl,  who  made  her  first  appearance  on 
the  regular  boards  some  few  years  before,  at  the 
"  California  Theatre,"  as  "Arthur,"  in  '-'King 
John."  She  had  developed  into  an  actress,  and 
made  such  improvement  that  the  leading  parts  in 
juvenile  tragedy  and  comedy  found  in  her  a  fair 
representative.  Miss  Woodthorpe  went  East 
subsequently,  and  I  am  unaware  of  her  present 
residence,  or  whether  she  is  still  on  the  stage  or 
not.  She  had  all  the  elements  for  success,  if  in- 
dustry was  not  wanting. 

The  third  name  I  recall  is  that  of  Mr.  Samuel 
W.  Piercy.  This  young  man  was  a  native  of 
California,  had  commenced  as  an  amateur  when 
quite  young,  and  obtained  some  little  recognition 
during  the  early  years  of  the  "  California  Thea- 
tre." He  went  East,  making  rapid  advancement, 
and  returned  to  his  native  State  a  very  fine  juven- 
ile actor.  Mr.  Piercy  married  a  lady  of  San 
Francisco,  and  lost  her  in  Philadelphia  within 
two  years,  but  had  a  daughter  on  whom  to  bestow 
the  love  that  had  been  a  wife's,  but  not  for  long ; 
for  ere  a  twelvemonth  had  elapsed,  he  followed  the 
wife  and  mother  to  the  tomb,  far  from  home  and 
kindred,  but  not  from  friends.  For  Samuel 
Piercy  there  was  a  great  future,  had  he  lived,  but 
death  came  to  him  in  loathsome  shape  and  sud- 
denly, by  small-pox,  in  the  city  of  Boston,  in 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  381 

1880.  Many  months  after  his  decease  his  re- 
mains were  brought  to  San  Francisco,  and  re-in- 
terred in  the  family  vault.  It  was  my  sad  privi- 
lege to  participate  in  the  burial  ceremonies.  I 
may  be  pardoned  for  inserting  here  a  short  ex- 
tract from  my  funeral  eulogy. 

"Samuel  Piercy  sleeps,  calmy,  at  rest;  separated  —  not 
divided — by  a  few  rods  of  our  common  mother,  earth,  from 
the  wife  he  fondly  loved.  Nature  and  humanity  recognize 
neither  prelate  nor  council,  nor  consistory,  nor  dogma,  nor 
creed.  The  gentle  zephyrs  of  the  Pacific  will  blow  sweetly 
over  both,  and  the  soft  dews  of  heaven  will  descend  alike  upon 
the  graves  of  the  husband  and  the  wife;  in  death  they  are  not 
divided." 

In  the  month  of  August,  1879,  I  had  received 
the  nomination  in  convention  of  my  fellow  citi- 
zens, for  the  position  of  one  of  the  "Justice's  of 
the  Peace,  for  the  City  and  County  of  San  Fran- 
cisco," and  in  the  following  October  election  had 
been  chosen  to  fill  the  place,  as  "  Col.  Sellers  " 
says,  "  by  a  large  majority."  This  was  previous 
to  my  last  theatrical  engagement,  and  in  Janu- 
ary, 1880,  I  took  my  seat  on  the  bench  as  one  of 
the  minor  magistrates  of  the  city  and  county.  It 
can  hardly  be  said  of  me  that  I  filled  the  "  great 
bard's"  picture — 

' '  In  fair  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lined, 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut '  '- 

for  I  had  but  little  belly,  and  no  beard  at  all ; 
nor  was  I — 

' '  Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances  ' ' — 


382  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

for  all  I  knew  of  law  was  gathered  from  a  very 
cursory  reading  of  "  Blackstone"  and  a  tolerable 
acquaintance  with  the  requirements  of  the  Civil 
Code  of  California. 

My  pleasantest  memories  of  that  j  udicial  term 
are  of  the  "happy  couples" — presumably  happy, 
at  least  —  whom  I  united,  amounting  to  one 
hundred  in  all.  Two  hundred  "souls  with  but 
one"  hundred  "single  thoughts" — two  hundred 
"hearts  that  beat  as  one"  hundred!  The  reader 
will  be  careful  to  make  the  proper  numerical 
distribution — outside  of  Brigham  Young's  king- 
dom— one  a  piece. 

During  the  summer  of  the  year  after  the  close 
of  my  official  term,  I  was  called  upon  to  occa- 
sionally lecture,  or  deliver  an  address,  and  found 
myself  at  Los  Angeles,  where  Captain  Jack 
Crawford — or  "Captain  Jack,"  as  he  was  usually 
called — was  playing  with  a  small  theatrical  com- 
pany. I  had  known  this  gentleman  in  San 
Francisco,  where  as  a  kind  of  semi-professional 
actor  he  had  been  connected  with  several  organ- 
izations not  over  successful.  He  was  a  whole- 
souled,  generous,  noble-spirited  fellow,  had  been 
in  service  on  the  frontier  as  a  scout  and  on 
Crook's  staff,  and  rode  a  horse  as  if  born  in  the 
saddle.  He  could  write  very  fair  verses,  and 
was  a  pretty  good  actor.  Now,  whether  my 
"  Captain  Jack  "  is  the  Captain  Crawford  whom 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  383 

the  Mexicans  have  recently  murdered  in  Arizona 
or  no,  I  know  not ;  I  think  he  is  ;  but,  if  not,  my 
Captain  Jack  is  still  a  pleasant  memory. 

And  still  another  memory  of  that  summer  I 
recall ;  one  in  conj  unction  with  whom  I  gave  a 
musical  and  literary  entertainment  in  the  pleas- 
ant burgh  known  as  R C y.  The  lady 

was    Mrs.   L S C .     She    was   the 

daughter  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women 
ever  seen  on  the  London  boards,  who,  fifty  years 
before,  had  been  the  reigning  toast  among  the 

bloods  of  the  British  metropolis.     Mrs.  C 

had  made  an  unfortunate  marriage,  and  was 
engaged  in  an  honorable  struggle  with  fate  and 
poverty  to  rear  the  two  dependent  children  that 
had  been  left  upon  her  hands.  She  sang  and 
played  well,  though  with  some  exaggeration  of 
style ;  was  extremely  impulsive  and  erratic,  but 
had  a  thoroughly  good  heart,  and  had  sufHcient 
confidence  in  herself  to  attempt  anything.  Our 
joint  programme  of  readings,  recitations  and 
musical  selections  produced  some  profit,  and 
was  repeated  in  S M o. 

From  a  western  magazine  I  copy  an  article,  of 
which  this  fair  lady  was  the  heroine : 

u  There  came,  one  day,  from  the  railroad  into 
Deer  Lodge  Montana,  a  solitary  freight  team, 
part  of  the  burden  of  which  were  two  broken- 
down  show  people.  The  freighter  brought  them 


384  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

up  more  through  sympathy  than  for  compensa- 
tion, for  when  they  landed  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
town  they  had  but  a  lone  half-dollar  between 
them  to  commence  business  with. 

uThe  man  looked  anything  but  a  showman — a 
little  pinched-up  fellow,  with  face  to  drive  rather 
than  draw  an  audience  ;  but  the  rascal  had  been 
fortunate  in  striking  a  partner.  (The  ways  of 
an  actress  are  past  finding  out!)  Broke,  like 
himself,  it  is  true,  but  possessing  a  fair  wardrobe 
and  any  amount  of  confidence  in  her  abilities, 
this  lady  of  the  stage,  when  the  kind-hearted 
freighter  set  her  down  in  the  suburbs  of  our 
town — dirty  and  dusty,  her  unartistic  garments 
faded  and  worn,  unkempt  hair  floating  in  the 
evening  breeze,  her  shoes  too  much  worn  to 
afford  protection  from  the  prickly  cactus — was 
more  an  object  of  pity  than  of  curiosity. 

"There  was  no  similarity  in  the  names  of  these 

show  people.  Professor and  Laura  Agnes 

sounded  strangely  when  they  traveled  in  one 
firm,  lived  in  one  wagon,  and  owned  but  one 
pair  of  blankets  ;  but  stage  people  come  and  go 
in  their  own  peculiar  way,  and  we  must  take 
them  as  we  find  them. 

"  Laura  Agnes  made  good  use  of  the  river  that 
flowed  by  their  camping-ground,  for  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  she  strode  into  the  office  of  the  New 
Northwest,  in  good  attire,  her  complexion  bril- 


Memories  of  an   Old  Actor.  385 

liant  as  a  rose,  and  her  face  full  of  smiles,  I  did 
not  at  first  recognize  her  as  the  woman  who  sat 
on  the  ground  by  the  freighter's  wagon  the  eve- 
ning before,  crunching  slap-jacks  and  sipping 
coffee  from  a  tin  cup. 

"Well,  Laura  Agnes  found  the  editor  in  his  den 
and  bearded  him  ;  she  interviewed  him  as  to  the 
prospects  of  getting  a  paying  audience  in  town, 
the  price  of  hand  bills,  local  blasts,  etc.,  and  was 
in  ecstasies  when  she  learned  that  no  first-class 
troupe  had  played  there  since  the  immortal  Jack 
Langrische  had  swept  the  town  of  its  last  dollar ; 
as  luck  would  have  it,  a  new  hall  had  but  recently 
been  completed  for  banquet  and  ball  purposes, 
and  altogether  Laura  Agnes'  star,  that  had  set  in 
the  unappreciative  Sierras,  was  beginning  to  rise 
in  glory  to  shine  forth  'mid  the  valleys  of  the 
everlasting  Rockies.  She  made  an  impression 
on  the  editor,  I  think  (those  actresses  are  such 
winning  things)  ;  he  was  a  bachelor,  and  a  long 
way  from  home,  and  he  told  Laura  Agnes  that  if 
saying  good  things  of  her  would  bring  her  good- 
luck,  then  she  might  count  on  a  house  that  would 
do  her  eyes  good. 

"When  Laura  posted  off  to  see  about  the  hall,  I 
took  occasion  to  mention  the  little  history  of  her, 
that  I  had  from  the  freighter,  that  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  inform  him  of  the  state  of  Laura 
Agnes'  finances,  and  that  I  believed  that  she  was 


386  Memories  of  an  Old  Ac/or. 

owner  of  just  a  half  dollar.  The  editor  was  a 
man  noted  for  his  kindness  of  heart,  and  his  de- 
sire to  see  everybody  prosper,  and  he  only  re- 
plied— that  if  she  was  down  we  must  help  her  on 
her  feet  again. 

"Well,  Lanra  Agnes  returned  to  the  office  with 
the  cosmetics  fairly  running  from  her  face,  bear- 
ing the  announcement  that  the  hall  was  secured, 
and  that  we  could  go  on  with  our  good  words, 
and  then  returned  to  the  wagon  to  gather  her 
little  baggage  and  wait  the  appearance  of  the 
paper,  which  was  to  come  out  in  the  afternoon, 
satisfied  that  she  had  found  friends  in  a  strange 
land.  Then  we  went  to  work  and  got  up  the  post- 
ers ;  they  were  immense ;  they  could  be  seen  afar 
off.  There  had  never  been  seen  such  an  artist 
on  that  side  of  the  range  before  (so  the  bill  said) , 
and  probably  never  would  be  again.  It  was  the 
only  opportunity,  now  was  the  accepted  time  to 
see  and  hear  the  great  Laura  Agnes — Conie  one  ! 
Come  all ! 

"In  the  meantime  Laura  and  her  tag  had  taken 
rooms  in  the  highest-priced  hotel  in  town,  and 
was  treading  majestically  to  and  fro  on  the  bal- 
cony where  she  could  be  seen  to  the  best  advan- 
tage from  the  street. 

"  When  the  paper  made  its  appearance  that 
afternoon,  Laura  must  have  been  astonished  to 
learn  that  she  had  played  before  all  the  crowned 


of  an  Old  Actor.  387 

heads  of  Europe ;  had  crossed  the  ocean  and 
startled  the  greatest  cities  of  the  East  with  her 
wonderful  acting,  but  above  all,  must  have  been 
surprised  to  learn  through  the  local  columns  of 
the  New  Northwest,  that  to  her  money  was  no  ob- 
ject, that,  having  already  a  large  bank  account 
laid  away,  she  had  come  to  the  mountains  merely 
to  recuperate  and  get  away  from  the  excitements 
of  the  stage  for  a  time,  and  had  only  consented 
at  the  earnest  request  of  a  few  who  had  heard  of 
her  fame  to  give  an  entertainment  at  Deer  Lodge. 
That  evening,  nearly  every  man  in  town,  married 
and  single,  took  supper  at  the  hotel  (ostensibly, 
to  get  a  square  meal),  but  in  reality,  to  get  a 
square  look  at  the  wonderful  Laura  Agnes. 

OPERA  MAD — OPERA  MAD; 

OR, 
ROMEO  AND  JULIET, 

Greeted  the  eyes  of  the  Deer  Lodgers  at  every 
turn  next  day,  and  some  of  the  bills  found  their 
way  into  the  nearest  mining  camp,  ten  miles 
away.  The  theatre  was  all  the  rage,  the  price  of 
admission  was  fixed  at  one  dollar,  which  was 
next  to  nothing  in  those  days,  and  the  large  hall 
was  jammed  long  before  the  curtain  rose. 

"  At  last,  the  bell  tingled  l  all  ready  ;'  the  cur- 
tain slid  hurriedly  to  one  side ;  for  a  quarter  of  a 
minute  after  you  could  have  heard  a  canary 


Memories  of  an  Old  Ac 

feather  drop,  then  came  one  spontaneous  out- 
bnrst  that  shook  the  very  ground  on  which  the 
building  stood ;  there  was  nobody  on  the  stage 
but  Romeo;  he  was  the  most  forlorn  looking 
lover  that  ever  appeared  on  any  stage ;  he  stood 
slantwise  to  the  audience,  a  wild  vacant  stare  in 
his  eyes,  like  a  dead  man  looking  off  into  the 
other  world. 

"  Romeo  was  a  cheap  man  in  ever}*  sense  ;  his 
foundation  was  a  block  of  wood,  in  which  two 
sticks  were  inserted  for  legs,  on  which  rested  a 
bust  of  some  kind,  and  on  this  a  block  for  a 
head,  and  over  this  a  false  face  and  one  of  Laura's 
wigs ;  a  hugh  mustache  set  around  on  one  side 
of  his  mouth  did  not  help  his  looks  ;  he  was 
dressed  in  a  red  cambric  gown,  and  this  was  the 
Romeo — a  perfect  blockhead  in  every  respect. 
'  That's  a  wooden  man,  too  dead  to  skin.'  said 
some  one  in  the  crowd ;  this  brought  forth 
another  roar  of  applause ;  when  this  was  over,  a 
miner  rose  np  on  a  back  seat  and  shou: 
'We've  seen  Romeo,  now -bring  on  your  Julio  !' 
which  was  followed  by  cheers  and  cries  of  'Julio! 
Julio!' 

"  After  a  minute  or  two,  the  curtains  of  a  little 
dressing  room  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  hall 
parted,  and  '  Julio J  strode  majestically  across  the 
stage  and  made  her  courtesy  amid  the  wile 
uproar. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  389 

"  When  the  audience  had  calmed  down  a  little, 
she  explained  that  she  was  supposed  to  be  a 
young  lady,  who  had  gone  opera-mad,  and  was 
practicing  with  an  imitation  Romeo,  preparatory 
to  going  on  the  stage.  A  lad}^  in  town  had  lent 
a  piano  for  the  occasion,  and  Laura  sang  and 
played  in  a  manner  that  surprised  the  natives, 
after  which  she  made  love  to  Romeo  after  a  style 
that  kept  the  house  in  a  continuous  roar.  But 
Romeo  couldn't  be  prevailed  upon  to  return  her 
demonstrations  of  love,  and  when  she  would  rush 
at  him  with  outstretched  arms  and  beseech  him 
to  speak  to  her,  to  embrace  her  just  once,  he 
would  only  stare  at  her  with  those  frightful  eyes 
— but  it  invariably  brought  down  the  house. 
Once,  when  she  rushed  at  him,  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  called  upon  him  to  embrace 
her,  a  man  on  a  front  seat  became  so  impatient 
at  Romeo's  indifference,  that  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  shouted  '  Go  for  her,  Romeo,  or  let  some 
one  there  that  can  ! ' 

u  Between  acts,  Laura  Agnes  sang  and  played, 
and  spun  strange  yarns  until  near  midnight,  and 
it  was  only  with  the  greatest  reluctance  that  the 
seats  were  vacated  then.  If  ever  an  audience 
got  the  worth  of  their  money  invested,  it  was 
that  one.  Laura  announced  an  entire  change  of 
programme  for  the  next  night,  but  on  the  follow- 
ing day  a  petition  was  presented  to  the  successful 


390  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Laura,  requesting  her  to  repeat  the  programme 
of  the  previous  evening,  and  give  them  '  Romeo 
and  Julio '  over  again,  and  her  fame  went  out 
into  the  mountains  that  day,  and  the  second  house 
was  even  greater  than  the  first. 

"  But  Laura  Agnes'  success  didn't  end  in  Deer 
Lodge.  She  made  a  tour  of  the  Territory  and 
was  everywhere  greeted  with  the  best  of  houses. 
It  was  at  Pioneer,  however,  where  the  admiration 
for  her  acting  swept  the  whole  town  off  its  feet 
and  brought  downfall  to  Romeo.  At  that  time, 
there  were  in  Pioneer  seven  or  eight  hundred 
miners  and  not  a  stingy  one  among  them.  The 
mines  were  rich  and  everybody  made  money,  but 
they  only  made  it  for  the  fun  of  spending  it. 
Some  of  the  miners  had  been  to  Deer  Lodge,  when 
Laura  played  there,  and  when  she  passed  through 
Pioneer  on  her  way  to  the  Missoula  country,  a 
committee  of  miners  waited  on  her,  and  promised 
her,  that  if  she  would  play  there  on  her  return, 
every  man  in  the  diggings  would  go  to  hear  her. 
Laura  fulfilled  her  promise  and  was  on  hand  at 
the  appointed  time.  The  people  went  wild ; 
mining  and  business *of  all  kinds  suspended  and 
Laura  Agnes  realized  what  it  was  to  play  to  an 
audience  of  gold  miners,  who  didn't  care  for 
expense,  so  they  had  fun.  The  hall  was  filled 
and  men  climbed  on  top  of  each  others'  shoul- 
ders to  see  Laura,  when  she  made  love  to  Romeo. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  391 

Between  the  acts  the  house  was  emptied  and  the 
saloons  were  filled,  and  when  the  last  scene  was 
over,  the  town  was  in  a  glorious  state  of  intoxi- 
cation. In  the  excitement  of  the  closing  scene, 
Romeo  got  separated  from  '  Julio  '  and  was  borne 
by  the  boys  to  a  saloon,  where  he  was  stood  up 
at  the  bar,  and  made  to  take  part  in  the  midnight 
orgies  of  the  miners.  He  was  drenched  with 
whisky,  until  the  paint  came  off  his  face  and  not 
a  dry  stitch  was  left  upon  him.  While  in  this 
condition,  he  was  pushed  against  a  man  too 
drunk  to  know  the  difference.  He  imagined  he 
was  assaulted  by  one  of  the  boys,  and  pitched  into 
Romeo,  while  the  crowd  stood  back  and  urged 
him  to  '  give  it  to  him '  for  insulting  him. 
Romeo  went  down  in  the  battle  and  when  his 
adversary  had  done  with  him,  he  was  completely 
demolished ;  his  red  coat  was  torn  to  shreds,  his 
nose  bit  off,  his  eyes  gouged  out  and  his  cheeks 
smashed  in.  The  pieces  were  gathered  up  and 
laid  behind  the  bar  and  the  miners  went  on  with 
their  drinking  and  carousing. 

"In  the  meantime,  Laura  Agnes  had  become 
uneasy  about  Romeo,  and  had  sent  a  man  to  look 
him  up.  The  man  found  him'  lying  all  in  a  heap 
in  the  saloon.  Some  one  suggested  that  the  frag- 
ments of  Romeo  be  gathered  together  and  re- 
turned to  his  mistress  with  a  suitable  apology. 
He  was  stretched  on  a  board  and  carried  by  two 


392  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

men  to  the  hotel,  while  a  crowd  followed  at  their 
heels  to  see  the  fun. 

"Laura  was  at  the  breakfast  table  with  a  good 
many  others,  when  her  dead  Romeo  was  carried 
in  and  deposited  in  the  center  of  the  hall ;  then 
one  of  the  pall-bearers  addressed  her  in  the  most 
solemn  tone  : 

"  'Madam,  it  becomes  my  most  painful  duty  to 
present  to  you  the  remains  of  your  beloved  Ro- 
meo. He  would  run  with  the  boys  last  night, 
and  would  drink,  and  would  fight,  and  this  is 
what  is  left  of  him.' 

"Laura  gazed  at  the  figure  a  moment,  then  rose 
up,  and  with  a  scream  that  brought  a  rush  to  the 
breakfast  room,  fell  upon  Romeo.  '  Dead !  dead!' 
she  exclaimed  ;  '  my  Romeo — my  dear  Romeo, 
speak  to  me  this  once !  tell  me  you  love  me !  it 
cannot  be  that  he  is  dead  !  Romeo  !  Romeo  !  my 
darling  Ronieo  !  Yes,  yes,  he  is  dead  !  dead  !  Oh, 
Romeo,  Romeo,  Ronieo !'  and  with  tears  stream- 
ing down  her  cheeks,  tumbled  over  on  the  dilap- 
idated remains  of  Ronieo,  to  all  appearances,  as 
dead  as  a  mackerel. 

"  The  miners  couldn't  stand  this  last  act,  and 
made  a  rush  for  the  door,  their  solemn  faces  and 
glistening  eyes  telling  their  suppressed  emotions. 

"No  sooner  was  the  room  cleared  than  Laura 
Agnes  sprang  up  from  the  floor,  wiped  her  eyes, 
and  sat  down  to  the  breakfast  table  again,  laugh- 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  393 

ing  at  the  manner  in  which  she  had  u played  it" 
npoii  the  boys. 

"The  miners  returned  to  the  saloon,  a  sad-look- 
ing set,  where  they  raised  among  themselves  a 
purse  of  dnst  large  enough  to  buy  a  regiment  of 
Romeos. 

"When  the  stage  called  at  the  hotel  that  morn- 
ing to  take  Laura  Agnes  on  her  way  back  to 
Deer  Lodge,  the  miners  gathered  round  to  bid 
her  good  bye,  and  as  she  took  her  seat,  the  purse 
was  tossed  into  her  lap  and  Laura  was  '  gone 
from  their  gaze.' 

"This  remarkable  woman  left  the  mountains 
with  many  regrets  and  many  dollars." 

Since   Mrs.  C 's  profitable  adventures  in 

Montana,  she  must  have  experienced  severe  re- 
verses, for  she  was  very  poor.  I  honored  her  for 
her  perseverance  and  courage  in  fighting  the  bat- 
tle of  life,  and  for  her  fidelity  to  her  children, 
who  were  entirely  dependent  upon  her,  their 
father,  the  little  "  pinched-up  "  fellow  who  rode 
with  Laura  Agnes  into  Deer  Lodge  in  the  freight 
wagon,  having  deserted  her  and  them. 

I  have  now  to  record  an  event  which  is  one  of 
the  most  grateful  "memories  "  of  a  long  life.  It 
will  be  stated  in  the  most  succinct  manner  by 
copying  the  heading  of  the  "  California  Theatre" 
bill,  of  June  22d,  1881  : 


394  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

SPECIAL  WEDNESDAY  MATINEE. 

JUNE  22,  1881. 
GRAND  BENEFIT 

Tendered  by  the  members  of  the  Madi- 
son Square  Theatre  Company,  and 
the  resident  dramatic  profession 

—  TO  — 
WALTER  M.  ICEMAN. 

The  programme  included  selections  from  the 
"  School  for  Scandal,"  the  opera  of  "  La  Mas- 
cotte,"  and  two  acts  of  "  As  You  Like  It."  To 
all  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  zealously 
participated  in  this  gracious  offering,  I  felt  and 
still  feel  grateful — a  gratitude  of  the  heart,  rath- 
er than  of  spoken  or  written  words. 

In  August,  of  the  same  year,  I  received  the 
nomination  in  convention  of  my  fellow  citizens, 
for  the  office  of  "  Public  Administrator  of  the 
City  and  County  of  San  Francisco."  The  result 
of  the  election  may  be  briefly  told  in  the  follow- 
ing editorial,  copied  from  the  columns  of  the 
San  Francisco  Evening  Bulletin: 

"THE  HIGHEST  ON  THE  TICKET. 


"It  has  turned  out  just  as  though  it  had  been  a  play.  The 
'  good  man  '  of  the  play,  if  it  be  not  a  tragedy,  always  comes 
off  nicely  with  his  audience.  He  thwarts  villainy,  protects 
innocence,  and  is  assured  of  sympathetic  applause.  More- 
over, great  is  his  reward,  generally,  in  the  drama.  When  the 
curtain  falls,  it  falls  upon  the  fullness  of  his  night's  honors^ 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  395 

"  Perhaps  he  imagines  himself  for  the  time  being,  the  ac- 
tual character  that  he  personates.  Mr.  L,eman  has  for  years 
without  count  been  the  '  good  man  '  of  the  stage.  How 
many  mimic  rascals  he  has  brought  to  deserved  justice  in  his 
long  career  as  an  actor  he  could  not  approximately  number 
himself.  His  efforts  and  successes  on  the  boards,  excellently 
rendered,  have  brought  to  him  great  popularity;  no  political 
services  have  given  him  nominations  and  votes. 

' '  Theatre-goers  of  all  parties  know  him  in  a  pleasant  way, 
and  have  assisted  him  in  his  candidacies.  Although  nothing 
of  a  lawyer,  yet  he  has  made  an  acceptable  justice  of  the  peace 
for  this  city.  His  decisions  have  been  formed  on  the  plain 
principle  of  right  between  man  and  man  ;  they  have  not  been 
misguided  by  such  legal  technicalities  as  commonly  have 
weight  in  the  lowest  of  our  courts.  His  success  in  that  pub- 
lic capacity  warranted  his  party  in  tendering  him  this  year 
the  nomination  for  the  far  more  important  office  of  Public 
Administrator.  He  is  elected,  and  both  his  vote  and  his  ma- 
jority are  greater  than  those  of  any  of  his  associates  on  the 
ticket.  It  is  the  'good  man's'  special  victory.  He  was 
popular  with  Democrats  as  well  as  with  Republicans.  If  more 
of  the  voters  had  seen  him  act  frequently,  it  is  quite  probable 
that  his  majority  would  have  been  even  much  larger.  As  it 
is,  it  must  be  to  his  sufficient  gratification.  If  he  shall  make 
as  good  a  Public  Administrator  as  he  did  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  he  may  never  have  occasion  to  return  to  his  old  pro- 
fession." 

The  result  of  the  election  in  the  following 
year  was  disastrous  to  the  political  party  which 
had  my  allegiance.  The  tidal  wave  which  swept 
the  Union  and  the  State  swallowed  up  all  oppo- 
sition in  the  city  and  county — and  not  one  can- 
didate on  the  ticket  whereon  was  printed  my 
name  was  chosen ;  all  went  down  together.  I 


396  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

accepted  the  situation,  without  loss  of  appetite, 
or  sleep,  or  spirits.  I  hope  that  I  may  not  incur 
the  charge  of  self-adulation,  by  saying  that  all 
the  estates  that  came  into  my  hands,  during  my 
incumbency,  were  settled  and  closed  within  a 
twelvemonth  from  the  end  of  my  official  term. 
This  is  to  me  a  pleasant  memory,  and  all  the 
more  so,  that  it  is  justly  complimentary  to  the 
legal  ability  and  promptitude  of  my  attorney 
and  friend,  Frank  J.  French,  Esq.,  of  the  San 
Francisco  Bar. 

Nearly  four  years  have  passed,  and  six  have 
already  been  added  to  man's  allotted  "  three 
score  and  ten."  If  on  the  active  stage  of  the 
Drama  or  in  the  arena  of  Politics  I  may  no 
longer  live  and  move,  I  still  may  and  do  feel  a 
deep  interest  in  the  honor  and  purity  of  both. 

The  uses  and  abuses  of  the  stage  have  been 
defended  and  anathematized  since  the  dawn  of 
the  drama,  and  will  be  to  the  end  of  time.  In 
our  own  land  there  are  very  many  who,  if  not 
opponents  of  the  drama  and  the  stage,  still  take 
a  pessimist  view  of  the  theatre  and  its  influence 
on  society. 

They  shrug  their  shoulders  and  say,  "  Oh  !  if 
we  could  have  a  pure  drama,  an  American  drama 
untainted  with  the  leaven  of  vice  !  If  we  could 
have  a  moral  stage !  " 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  397 

These  are  without  doubt  very  suggestive  Sfsy 
and  carry  weight  in  view  of  the  questionable 
imbecilities  which  a  class  of  modern  translators 
and  adapters  have  inflicted  on  the  public. 

The  revolution  in  the  control  and  conduct  of 
the  theatre,  which  has  been  effected  within  the 
last  two  decades,  has  been  attended — especially 
in  our  own  country — with  great  detriment  to  the 
best  interests  and  influence  of  the  drama. 

The  disbandment  of  regularly  organized  the- 
atrical companies,  where  the  young  actor  was  by 
a  proper  training  fitted  for  his  calling,  and  taught 
how  to  play  subordinate  parts  before  being  en- 
trusted with  leading  ones,  and  the  unlimited 
extension  of  the  starring  system  (which  in  its 
inception  was  vicious)  have  been  most  disas- 
trous. 

We  shall  have  a  pure  drama,  an  American 
drama  worthy  of  the  name,  when  playwrights 
cease  to  write  plays  with  one  part  only ;  when 
managers  relegate  the  transplanted  drama  of 
the  demi-monde  to  the  place  of  its  birth,  and 
have  sufficient  judgment  to  discover  merit,  when 
the  playwright  possesses  it,  even  if  he  should 
have  the  misfortune  to  be  born  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic. 

And  the  American  Theatre  will  have  a  better 
moral  standing  when  municipal  magistrates  have 
sufficient  consideration  for  the  youth  who  are 


398  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

destined  in  the  immediate  future  either  to  honor 
or  disgrace  their  country,  and  sufficient  official 
firmness  to  close  the  filthy  "dives"  of  our  cities 
where  men  are  degraded,  women  debauched,  and 
the  Drama  bastardized  by  the  manager  (God 
save  the  mark !)  who  calls  his  den  a  theatre. 

And  when  elderly  gentlemen,  with  scanty  hair 
upon  their  heads,  take  their  wives  and  daughters 
to  the  boxes  to  listen  to  Shakespeare,  instead  of 
going  solus  to  the  front-orchestra  seats,  with 
opera-glass  exactly  focused  to  see  the  Queen  of 
the  Ballet. 

' '  Fair  Angiolini  bare  her  breast  of  snow, 
Wave  her  white  arms  and  point  her  pliant  toe. ' ' 

I  dare  to  hope  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant 
when  the  genius  and  spirit  of  our  land  will  be 
as  ably  illustrated  in  the  field  of  dramatic  com- 
position as  they  are  now  in  every  other  branch 
of  literature ;  as  they  are  at  the  bar,  in  the  pul- 
pit and  forum ;  as  they  have  been,  and  are,  by 
all  her  victories  in  the  arts  of  peace,  no  less  than 
by  her  triumphs  on  the  slippery  deck  and  bloody 
battle-field. 

With  brief  reference  to  a  short  tour  in  the 
British  Islands  and  Central  Europe,  this  record 
of  the  remembrances  of  an  old  actor  may  prop- 
erly close. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  1885,  I  landed  from  a 
Cunard  steamer  at  Queenstown — the  Cove  of 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  399 

Cork — one  of  the  finest  harbors  in  the  United 
Kingdom,  and  from  the  city  of  Cork  went,  with- 
out stopping  to  kiss  the  blarney  stone,  to  the 
Killarney  region,  where  lakes  and  fells  and 
mountains  are  hallowed  by  romance  and  legend 
and  story,  and  celebrated  in  poetry  and  song. 

With  a  glance  at  the  Currah  of  Kildare,  I  next 
found  myself  in  Dublin,  and  learned  to  know 
how  false  and  unjust  our  impressions  may  some- 
times be,  for  Dublin  is  a  beautiful  city,  embel- 
lished with  costly  public  and  private  edifices,  with 
every  evidence  to  the  stranger  of  municipal  good 
government. 

My  stay  in  the  Green  Isle  was  necessarily 
brief.  It  is  a  lovely  land,  where  the  blessings 
which  God  vouchsafes  to  his  creatures  seem  ever 
destined  to  be  marred  by  the  perversity  of  man. 
Whose  perversity  is  most  responsible  for  the  evil 
I  will  not  undertake  to  say ;  why  Lord  Kenmare 
and  Mr.  Herbert,  with  their  vast  and  magnificent 
estates  in  the  Killarney  region,  should  be  unable 
to  collect  twenty  per  cent  of  their  rental,  and 
are  made  practically  poor  by  their  great  wealth ; 
and  why  the  Killarney  mountaineers  should  be 
in  abject  penury  beneath  a  sky  and  in  a  land  so 
bright  and  lovely,  is  beyond  my  ken. 

Perhaps  the  "  Irish  problem,"  as  it  is  called,  is 
near  solution  ;  let  us  hope  that  it  is. 


400  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

I  met  a  pompous  u  Binney,  the  Butler,"  in  the 
hotel  at  Killarney,  and  was  bored  by  an  ignorant 
prig  in  attendance  at  the  "  castle,"  in  Dublin, 
but  I  found  the  women  of  Ireland  modest,  gentle 
and  attractive ;  the  men  frank,  honest  and  sin- 
cere. 

Across  the  Irish  Channel,  rolling  on  by  the 
ruins  of  Conway  Castle,  grand  in  decay,  to  Ches- 
ter, with  its  walls  and  battlements  that  have 
stood  a  thousand  years  ;  thence  to  the  great  mart 
of  Liverpool,  in  all  things  the  antipodes  of  Ches- 
ter, to  Glasgow,  the  industrial  and  commercial 
metropolis  of  Scotland,  with  its  grand  cathedral 
(now  restored),  whose  history  would  be  an  epit- 
ome of  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  Scotland, 
and  its  grand  necropolis ;  down  the  Clyde  to 
Greenock ;  thence  to  Ayr,  the  "  land  o'  Burns," 
where  I  met  the  last  surviving  relative  of  the 
poet,  his  niece,  Miss  Begg,  a  bright,  intelligent 
lady,  73  years  of  age  ;  and  wandered  amid 

"The  banks  and  braes  o'  Bonny  Doon. " 

On  the  banks  of  the  Frith  of  Clyde,  ten  miles 
below  Greenock,  I  visited  the  old  ruin,  Rothsay 
Castle,  with  its  legend  of  the  Norse  warrior  and 
the  Lady  Isabella — 

' '  And  oft  in  the  murk  and  midnight  hour, 

When  a'  is  silent  there, 
A  shriek  is  heard,  and  a  ladye  is  seen 
On  the  steps  o '  the  bluidy  stair. ' ' 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  401 

From  there,  up  the  Frith  to  Dunbarton  Castle, 
to  the  summit  of  which  I  mounted — this  forti- 
fied rock  contains  the*  sword  of  Wallace — and 
so  to  Loch  Lomond,  skimming  its  surface  by 
steamer,  and  returning  by  rail  to  Glasgow. 

I  came  suddenly  upon  the  monument  and 
tomb  of  James  Sheridan  Knowles — spoken  of  in 
a  preceding  chapter — in  the  Glasgow  necropolis ; 
the  memories  of  fifty  years  and  more  came  back 
as  I  looked  upon  his  grave-tablet,  and  I  could 
hardly  realize  that  the  dust  of  the  genial  Irish- 
man— the  brilliant  dramatist — the  energetic  act- 
or— and,  strange  to  write  it,  the  controversial 
clergyman — was  at  my  feet. 

From  the  walls  of  Stirling  Castle  I  looked 
forth  upon  six  battle-fields,  and  climbed  the  mas- 
sive tower,  surmounting  the  Abbey  Craig,  which 
tells  of  the  glory  won  by  Wallace  and  Bruce  on 
Bannockburn  beneath. 

Edinburgh,  the  most  picturesque  city  I  saw 
while  abroad,  held  me  enchained  by  its  mighty 
memories.  I  sat  in  the  chair  of  the  "  Wizard  " 
of  Abbotsford  and  held  in  niy  hand  the  ivory 
and  mother-of-pearl  cross,  that  Mary  Stuart  held 
in  hers,  when  she  mounted  the  scaffold.  I 
roamed  in  Melrose  Abbey,  and  lingered  in  Ross- 
lyn  Chapel,  and  explored  the  vaults  of  the  mighty 
old  Norman  Keep,  that  stands  on  the  banks  of 
the  Esk. 

26 


402  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

Edinburgh  Castle  —  the  Canongate  —  Holy 
Rood !  The  very  names  bring  back,  not  to  me 
only,  the  memories  of  a  visit,  but  to  all  mankind 
the  "  memories  "  of  seven  centuries. 

I  found  myself  in  London  in  July,  where 
within  the  national  place  of  sepulture — whose 
monuments  "  epitomize  a  people's  history," 
where  kings  and  queens,  warriors  and  statesmen, 
and  the  intellectually  great  of  the  past  lie  side  by 
side  in  eternal  silence — I  sat,  when  a  high  dig- 
nitary of  the  Church  in  the  presence  of  hereditary 
nobility  and  the  representatives  of  royalty,  rank 
and  power,  paid  a  noble  tribute  to  the  strength, 
self-control  and  magnanimity  of  the  simple  sol- 
dier, whose  deeds  have  become  his  country's 
heritage,  in  these  words : 

' '  Such  careers  as  Grant 's  are  the  glory  of  the  American 
continent ;  they  show  that  the  people  have  a  sovereign  insight 
into  intrinsic  force.  If  Rome  told  with  pride  how  her  dictat- 
ors came  from  the  plough-tail,  America,  too,  may  record  the 
answer  of  the  President,  who,  on  being  asked — "  What  should 
be  his  Coat-of- Arms  ? "  answered,  proudly  mindful  of  his  early 
struggles  :  "A  pair  of  shirt-sleeves.  " 

' '  The  answer  showed  a  noble  sense  of  the  dignity  of  labor, 
a  noble  superiority  to  the  vanities  of  feudalism,  a  strong  con- 
viction that  men  are  to  be  honored  simply  as  men,  not  for  the 
prizes  of  accident  and  birth.  " 

No  more  trenchant  words  were  ever  uttered  in 
Westminster  Abbey  and  we,  who  sat  in  the  place 
of  honor,  looked  in  each  others'  eyes,  proud  that 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  403 

we  were  born  in  a  land,  that  produced  a  rnan 
worthy  of  such  a  eulogy  in  such  a  place. 

I  lingered  on  my  way  from  the  Scotch  metrop- 
olis long  enough  in  York  to  see  the  great  Min- 
ster, and  in  Durham  to  inspect  its  famous 
Cathedral — "Half  house  of  God,  half  castle 
'gainst  the  Scot." 

From  London  to  Paris,  to  Basle,  to  Lucerne,  to 
Interlaken,  Berne,  Lausanne  and  Geneva  ;  thence 
by  Chamounix,  via  the  Tete-Noir  Pass,  to  Mar- 
tigny  and  Brieg  on  the  Swiss  frontier ;  over  the 
Simplon  to  Pallanza  on  Lake  Maggiore,  through 
the  chain  of  Italian  lakes  to  Como  and  from 
there  by  rail  to  Milan  and  thence  to  Venice. 

When  I  left  Venice,  I  doubled  on  my  route  for 
the  short  distance  between  Venice  and  Verona, 
where,  within  the  mighty  circle  of  that  heathen 
temple,  erected  two  hundred  and  forty  years 
before  Christ  was  born,  I  sat,  where  the  beauties 
of  Verona  once  sat  with  smiling  faces  and  cruel 
hearts,  and,  like  their  sisters  in  Vespasian's  still 
mightier  temple,  turned  down  their  thumbs  as  a 
signal  for  the  slaughter  of  the  conquered  gladi- 
ator— 

"Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday," 

And  lingered  for  a  while  in  contemplation  at  the 
Apochryphal  Tomb  of  Juliet.  From  Verona  I 
went  northwardly,  via  the  Tyrol,  to  Innspruck, 


404  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

and  from  there  to  Munich,  next  to  Strassburg, 
Heidelberg,  Frankfort,  Mayence,  down  the  Rhine 
to  Cologne,  Amsterdam,  The  Hague,  Antwerp, 
Brussels  and  Ostend,  and,  recrossing  the  Chan- 
nel to  Dover,  sped  by  rail  again  to  London.  On 
leaving  the  great  city,  I  crossed  central  England 
— in  order  to  visit  Stratford-on-Avon,  Warwick 
and  Kenilworth  Castles — to  Liverpool  and  met 
the  steamer  for  home. 

This  tour,  which,  in  addition  to  the  British 
Islands,  embraced  a  part  of  France,  Alsace, 
Switzerland,  Northern  Italy,  the  Tyrol,  South 
Germany,  Holland  and  Belgium,  is  crowded 
with  a  myriad  of  sweet  and  bitter  memories. 

I  had  stood  upon  the  floor  of  Notre  Dame,  and 
the  Saint-Chapelle,  of  Les  Invalides,  and  the 
Pantheon,  of  the  cathedrals  of  Milan  and  Strass- 
burgh  and  Antwerp  and  Cologne,  of  the  wond- 
rous Basilica  of  St.  Marc,  in  wondrous  and 

"Beautiful  Venice— the  Bride  of  the  Sea." 

I  had  mused  and  pondered  at  the  tombs  of  Scott 
and  Burns  and  Shakespeare,  had  roamed  through 
Holy  Rood  and  Hampton  Court  and  Windsor 
palaces,  and  wandered  through  the  gorgeous 
Salons  of  the  Louvre,  the  New  and  Old  Residenz 
in  Munich,  the  Doge's  Palace  in  Venice,  and 
other  royal  dwellings. 


Memories  of  an  Old  Actor.  405 

I  had  gazed  on  some  of  the  masterpieces  of 
art,  which  can  never  die,  while  roaming  through 
the  grand  museums  and  galleries,  with  which  the 
great  centers  of  Europe  are  crowded.  I  had 
mounted  triumphal  pillars,  erected  to  commem- 
orate the  glories  of  the  great,  and  had  thridded 
—candle  in  hand —  the  crypts  of  Chillon,  the 
dungeons  of  the  Doge's  Palace,  and  the  horrid 
vaults  of  the  "  Stein "  in  Antwerp.  I  had 
climbed  the  Alps  and  floated  on  the  Irish  and 
Scotch  and  Swiss  and  Italian  lakes. 

I  had  strolled  through  many  a  gorgeous  pleas- 
ure-ground, and  trod  the  marble  floors  of  many 
a  baronial  hall  and  castle,  but  I  had  been  in  no 
land  in  which,  as  in  my  own,  the  humblest  and 
poorest  citizen  can  easily  acquire  and  hold  a 
castle  of  his  own.  I  had  seen  the  grandeur  of 
of  Nature — for  God's  work  everywhere  is  grand 
— but  I  had  seen  no  mountain  higher  or  whiter 
than  "  Tacorna,"  no  lake  more  beautiful  than 
1  Tahoe,"  no  stream  so  mighty  as  the  "  Missis- 
sippi," no  valley  so  sublime  as  "  Yosemite,"  no 
cataract  so  grand  as  "  Niagara." 

Realizing,  as  an  American,  our  own  short- 
comings— that  we  have  too  little  respect  for  the 
restraints  of  law,  and  too  little  regard  for  moral 
obligations  and  the  sanctities  of  home, — I  yet 
returned  home  an  American  in  every  fiber  of 
my  being,  with  small  respect  for  the  American 


406  Memories  of  an  Old  Actor. 

who,  whether  his  sojourn  abroad  be  brief  or 
otherwise,  comes  back  with  a  real  or  pretended 
admiration  for  foreign  institutions  over  those  of 
his  native  land. 

On  looking  back  over  the  years  that  are  gone, 
I  call  to  mind  scores  of  dramatic  luminaries  of 
either  sex,  with  whom  at  various  periods  of  my 
career  I  have  been  on  terms  of  more  or  less 
social  and  professional  intimacy ;  and  also  many 
prominent  personages  whom  I  have  known  with- 
out the  dramatic  pale,  whose  names  are  unmen- 
tioned  in  this  volume ;  but  at  seventy-six  years 
of  age  our  mnemonics  lapse  somewhat,  and  were 
it  otherwise,  the  briefest  individual  reference 
to  them  would  swell  the  book  to  unreasonable 
limits. 

The  great  master  has  told  us  that — 

"All  the  world's  a  stage, 
And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players. " 

If  in  these  desultory  memories  of  a  long  life, 
the  greater  portion  of  which  has  been  spent 
within  the  inner  circle  of  the  mimic  world,  and 
now  in  the  course  of  nature  rapidly  drawing  to 
its  close,  the  writer  has  penned  aught  that  will 
interest  or  beguile  the  tired  hours  of  one  weary 
struggler  in  the  great  drama  played  on  the 
world's  stage,  his  object  has  been  attained. 
And  so  hoping,  he  bids  his  Readers  courteously 
farewell. 

^g*-*^^ 

^>  OP  THB^^ 

fat  W  T  IT  "to  T5  C  7  m  T^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 
This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

IUL  1     1970  47 


REC'DLD 




RHX  C|1  FEB  2  6 


M3 


APR 


198T 


BEC.  cm     HfiP      8 


DEC  .11 1980 


JUL  2  2  1988 


;  i  J 


3  ' 


JAN30B92 


SEP  182005|imf?ja 


LD21A-60m-3,'70 
(N5382slO)476-A-32 


General  Libri 
University  of  Californis 
Berkeley 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


